The Lyrium War
by Zute
Summary: The Chantry and the Grey Wardens of Ferelden have crossed paths and some templars have died. The Chantry wishes to reign in the Grey Wardens. Neria Surana and Anders fight for their independence. They become the Grey Warden Liberation Front of Ferelden.
1. Chapter 1

**Attempt One**

"He passed his harrowing yesterday," Amelia whispered to Neria as their eyes followed the lanky form of the blond mage. The newly harrowed mage turned and looked at the girls. He shot them a quick smile. Amelia sighed and whispered to Neria, "He's so handsome." Neria shrugged. Her friend had had a crush on Anders for at least a year now.

Amelia was devastated that he would be leaving the apprentice quarters but she was even more impressed with him now that he was a full-fledged mage. In a couple more years, Amelia and Neria would undergo their own harrowing, although Neria thought that if Amelia didn't study a little harder she was going to have to wait longer than that.

For a few weeks following his rise in status, they saw Anders working with youngest mages, trying to teach them the basics. Neria thought he looked utterly miserable. The kids wouldn't pay attention to him. He seemed to always have a scowl on his face. It was only a few weeks after that they heard that Anders had run away.

Neria and Amelia watched the templars leaving the tower as they started to track him down. "Maybe he'll make it to Minrathous", Neria said.

"Where is that?" Amelia asked.

"The capital of Tevinter. Where the mages still rule," Neria reminded her. _Another lesson Amelia was daydreaming through, _she thought.

"Oh no! I hope he doesn't make it," she said. "I hope the templars bring him back."

Neria looked at her friend, knowing that her desire for his capture was due to her longing for him. Neria wasn't sure what she thought. _Why would he run away? _The Tower provided her with everything she needed. Food, friends, and interesting things to study.

That evening as the sun was setting, Neria pushed a chair over to one of the high windows in the apprentice quarters and looked out. She rarely saw outside and just as rarely thought about the _outside. _A cool breeze bathed her skin and she smelled fish, water, and a smell of something else... trees from across the lake? A fish jumped out of the water for a moment and she wondered if fish were curious about the world outside too. As she pondered she saw the little boat cross the lake. It was heavily laden tonight, templars, and a mage. She sighed. It looked like Anders had only managed a few hours out on his own, she wondered what it was like.

After that they didn't see Anders for a few weeks.

**Attempt Two**

"Hey, Kiddo," Anders greeted her. He was tutoring Neria in basic healing magic. She was smart, but didn't have much aptitude for healing. He handed her a lancet. "Okay, let's see what you've learned."

She took the lancet and frowned. She was supposed to stick herself in the finger with it and it made her extremely nervous. She stared at her finger, willing herself to prick it with the lancet.

"Come on," he urged, "where's my brave girl?"

She grimaced and sighed. "I'm trying." She gave herself a halfhearted poke and cried out. She didn't even break her skin.

Anders laughed. "I can go fetch a tame rat if that would make it easier. You can poke the rat."

Neria looked up, horrified. "No! That would be awful." She glared at her finger, screwed up her courage, bit her lower lip and jabbed harder. This time she yelped loudly but at least there was a dot of blood on her finger and it was getting larger.

Her face went pale, she stared in shock at the deep red dot, then she fainted.

Anders caught her before her head hit the floor. "Hey!" he called out to a templar. "Need some help here." A templar standing at the doorway, watching him closely came over.

"What happened?" the templar asked.

"She fainted," Anders paused a moment, sizing up the opportunity. "Um, maybe you should take her to the infirmary?"

The templar picked up the small, elven girl in his arms and carried her out.

_Thanks, Neria! _he thought. Anders used the opportunity to make another escape. This time he was gone for a whole day.

Neria saw him being led to the First Enchanter's office. She saw a templar cuff him in the head with a mailed fist. Her stomach clenched up and she questioned things for the first time.

**Attempt Three**

Anders was assigned to kitchen duty for a month after that. Whenever Neria saw him his hands were red and rough from whatever he did in the kitchen. She felt a little sorry for him and wondered what was so wonderful about being _outside_ that he risked this sort of punishment. Whatever it was apparently lured him away again because he disappeared and this time it was a week before he was dragged back.

She didn't see it but she heard the rumors that they had locked him up for two months after that. She didn't even know there was a place to lock people up. Something about Anders, when she thought about him, reminded her of a bird bashing itself against a window trying to escape.

**Attempts Four, Five and Six**

After that Anders seemed to settle into life in the Tower and didn't run away again, at least while Neria was there. She underwent her Harrowing and Anders had congratulated her warmly. Then things happened with Jowan. The First Enchanter used her as a pawn in his chess game with Knight-Commander Greagoir. She narrowly avoided being locked up herself, even though she had only been following the First Enchanter's orders. Duncan conscripted her into the Grey Wardens, ostensibly to rescue her but she found out later the Grey Wardens desperately needed more mages. She saw Anders one last time as she walked out the front hall with Duncan and looked back to see him watching her leave.

_It should have been him, _she thought.

Inevitably Anders tried again. Over the course of the next two years he spent most of his time locked away from everyone. Just as soon as they released him, he would try another escape and that lead to another lock-up. The templars were getting very impatient and even Irving was at the end of his rope. After attempt five he was locked up a good long time. It was a good time to be forgotten as the Tower fell into chaos from Uldred's overthrow attempt. Neria assumed he had been killed, like Amelia and many of her other friends, when she and her companions came back to the tower. Little did she know he was locked in the prison in the basement.

Attempt six had been very promising. He met a girl named Namaya and she promised to help him find his phylactery. They lived together for a few weeks in domestic and sexual bliss, until the templars found him. They dragged him away and he was never sure what they did to her.

Anders didn't hear much news, locked away as he was. He didn't hear about the battle at Ostagar or about the archdemon. His primary source for news was a cat that visited him in his cell, and although the cat was chatty, he didn't pass on much of interest.

**Attempt Seven**

He was going to Amaranthine to try to find Namaya again. He couldn't imagine she would still be waiting for him after all this time, but he held onto his thin hope. He nearly got to the city and he was nabbed by some seriously angry templars. Before the Tower revolt they beat mages out of a sense of duty, or so they liked people to believe, now they seemed to take open enjoyment with beating mages. He was a bloody mess when they threw him in the cell in Vigil's Keep. This time they were talking about taking him to the Tower and hanging him.

_Do they do that? he wondered. Hang mages? _He hadn't ever heard of a mage being hung at the Tower. At the Harrowing they just ran you through if you looked like you were having too much fun in the Fade, or came back as an abomination. Blood mages were made tranquil. _Hanging?_ He assumed they were blustering, he'd never heard of that. Of course he'd never heard of a mage running away seven times either...

He was spending his second night in the cell in Amaranthine when the darkspawn attacked. One templar stayed with him, the others went to help with the fighting outside.

"Hey Biff," he said, "Let me out of here so I can help fight the darkspawn." Anders didn't know his name but Biff seemed appropriate.

The templar glared at him, shifting nervously. The sounds of fighting were getting louder. He heard the front gate give way and lots of yelling.

"All right, mage, but don't try anything," the templar warned him. He was just working on fishing the keys out of his pocket when the door gave way and a dozen darkspawn burst into the room. The templar yelled and drew his weapon. The numbers were definitely not in his favor and it didn't take long before he was overwhelmed. He dropped quickly and made a strange gurgling sound as he drew his last breath.

Anders had fought an existential battle from within his cell, while the templar fought an actual battle outside his cell. He could, _theoretically_, fight the darkspawn who were conveniently killing the templars. He could_, __theoretically_, heal Biff and possibly save his life. He wondered if the templars would be grateful and perhaps let him go free. He laughed heartily at the thought. No, he knew they'd be just as happy to kick him in the head and hang him as ever. So he didn't intervene and he watched Biff die. The darkspawn couldn't get to him in his cell so they left him alone, at least for now. He waited until they rushed away to kill someone else, then he grabbed Biff by the ankle and drew him closer. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and let himself out.

Then another group of darkspawn ran in and Anders had to actually fight this time. They were horrible, grotesque creatures and he wanted nothing more than to unleash a very large fireball from a safe distance, but, unfortunately, they were getting too intimate for that. He flared a cone of flame out of his finger tips. It worked well and quite a few of them dropped. However, more were coming. He repeated his cone of flame several times, until his finger tips were in danger of searing. In fact, just as the last of them were dropping was when the two women charged into the room. He was blowing on his fingertips, sticking them in his mouth to soothe them, but his mouth suddenly went dry as he recognized the small one.

"Neria?" he whispered. He could see her there. The cute elven kid he tutored a couple of years ago. The one that fainted at the sight of blood, too cowardly to poke herself with a little lancet. _Yes. Gray eyes, chestnut hair, oval face, pale skin, adorable pointy ears, _he remembered that. What he didn't remember was her looking so confident, shouting orders to the warrior with her and looking... _savage?_

She looked at him without really seeing him for a moment. Then realization hit her. "Anders?" she asked. Her mouth dropped open then formed into a big grin. "What..." she started to ask. She looked around, saw the empty cell, the dead templars. "Oh," she said.

"Er, I didn't do it," he said simply, gesturing at the dead templar. "Not that I'm broken up about it..."

Neria held up her hand to silence him. "Anders! I always thought you died in Uldred's revolt."

He chuckled, "No, I missed that. I was being held in the basement. They forgot about me for awhile. Nearly starved to death."

Neria's eyes almost went misty, seeing someone she knew from the Tower. She was glad he lived.

He looked at her speculatively. "So was it really you?" he asked. "I heard a little about the Blight and a Grey Warden mage, but the last time I really saw you was when I was tutoring you in healing and you...".

She cut him off abruptly. "We could really use your help, Anders. Will you help us out for a bit?" She really didn't want him telling that story about her in front of a recruit. It really wouldn't do for it to get out what a coward she had been. Nowadays she could tolerate the sight of blood, unless it was her own leaking out of a fresh wound. She still fainted at that.

He smiled at her. "Of course, Neria. Anything for my my old student." He chuckled.

"Commander, we should go," Mhairi said.

Neria nodded.

_"_Commander, is it?" Anders said. "It seems we have some catching up to do, Neria."

"So it would seem, Anders." She smiled at him. "Let's go, we have some darkspawn to kill."


	2. Chapter 2

**Alistair**

They met King Alistair outside the Vigil. Neria was properly subservient although Anders got the impression it was an act, especially as she forgot protocol and called him Alistair on a number of occasions. The King didn't seem to mind. In fact, he acted rather playfully around the elf. There was definitely some history here and that just piqued his curiosity even further. He knew little of what had been going on in over the last two years as most of it he had spent in a cell, or else fleeing from templars.

He was halfway thinking he should probably not be out here with these soldiers when a pair of especially sour looking templars stepped forward and demanded his arrest.

"He is a dangerous maleficar, your majesty. We were taking him back to the Tower to be hanged when he murdered his escort of templars," the templar named Rylock said.

The King looked at Neria, "Is that true?"

"Maleficar?" Anders sputtered. "I never...did that!" He looked at Neria.

She frowned, "No, absolutely not. He was locked in his cell when the darkspawn attacked. The darkspawn killed the templars." She didn't actually know that, but she wasn't about to let the templars take her old friend.

Rylock looked like she had just gargled with a gallon of pure lemon juice; her face looked so sour and puckered. "Nevertheless, he is an escaped apostate and maleficar and we are taking him."

Neria's brows drew down. "No, I don't think so." She crossed her arms and drew herself up to her full height, which wasn't much. "I hereby invoke the Grey Warden's Right of Conscription on Anders. From this moment on, he is a Grey Warden." She said it formally, trying to give her voice some authority and gravitas.

The King muttered, "Good on you, Neria," which Anders overheard.

Impossibly, Rylock's expression grew more curdled. "This is a Chantry matter, it does not involve the Crown, your majesty."

"I'm sorry, Rylock, I'm afraid I have to let it stand," the King spread his hands apologetically and sent a sly wink to Neria.

"This isn't the last you've heard from me on this matter, Commander!" Rylock warned. "I'd like to remind you we still have his phylactery and yours as well."

Neria glared at her, "I'd like to see you try." She let tiny little lightning bolts snap between her fingers, a small display of the high voltages she commanded.

Rylock, in her own display of bravado, began to gleam with an aura that promised to drain mana if she struck out. The diminutive mage and the templar locked eyes and sneered until finally Rylock spun abruptly on her heel. The templars stormed off and Neria summoned a foul smelling, gaseous cloud that shaped itself into a rude gesture, normally formed with fingers. The cloud followed the templars down the road away until the breeze finally dispersed it.

Alistair sighed and rubbed his hand across his short hair. "Maker, Neria, I'm going to hear about this. Can't you just pretend to not hate them, a little... for me?"

Neria looked at him and frowned. He was doing that puppy-dog thing with his eyes. "I'll try, Alistair, but I can't promise anything if they start harassing me and Anders again."

She drew a deep breath, trying to regain control of her temper, and asked, "Can you stay?"

He made an unkingly face, "No, I wish I could, but there's a lot I need to get done back in Denerim. I am sending you troops and supplies to help you rebuild." He bent over and hugged the Commander and kissed her on the forehead. "Take care, Neria."

King Alistair and his escort marched off down the road and they went inside the Keep.

~O~O~O~

Varel passed the chalice to Anders. Neria felt her heart slow a little. She tried to harden herself to the possibility that she might lose a friend, but it didn't work. She felt anxious. If these were to be his last moments she wanted to be brave for his sake. He took the chalice and made a funny face at her. She worked up a half-smile as he took a gulp. He choked on the foul smelling brew, went pale, and his eyes rolled back. Varel caught him as he fainted and slowly lowered him to the ground.

"He will live, Commander," Varel told her.

Her heart began to beat again.

~O~O~O~

"So..." Anders started asking, without knowing really how to ask. She was his friend, but now his Commander and leader of the Grey Wardens. He was a newly joined recruit. _There must be boundaries, right? Where are they?_

Neria could sense he was struggling. "So, I bet you're curious about how all this happened?" She gestured the way to a little table in the kitchen that was laden with lots of food. Anders was grateful. He had woken up from his Joining with not only a horrible taste in his mouth, but a hunger that felt like a cat was trying to claw it's way out through his belly button.

"You eat, I'll talk," she told him. "I bet you're more than a little hungry. There are some things about being a Grey Warden I'll have to explain a bit later." She looked a little regretful. "But one should be obvious now, you're going to have a very, very healthy appetite. Especially at first."

Anders tried not to be greedy but the clawing in his belly just wouldn't allow it. Neria tried not to smile, but it brought back such memories she couldn't help herself.

"So did you hear about the mess with Jowan?" she asked.

He nodded. "You helfed him 'scape?" he tried to say around a big mouthful of food.

"No, not really," she said. "I was helping the First Enchanter try to catch the Chantry initiate who was involved with all that. At least, that was what Irving told me." She sighed. "He wanted to take Greagoir down a notch or two by showing him his templars were corruptible. Of course, Greagoir wanted to take it out on me and lock me away in Aeonar for my role in it all." Neria frowned, "I was just following Irving's orders. I think that bastard would have let him do it too!"

Anders nodded, "He alwath wath a bathard," he tried to say around his full mouth.

"So there was a Grey Warden named Duncan visiting at the time and when Duncan had heard about things he tried to recruit me," she continued. "I would have gone willingly with him, but Greagoir got shirty about it and tried to prevent it, so Duncan conscripted me." She laughed, "Much like I conscripted you!" She smiled at him, "Hope you don't mind..."

Anders shook his head.

"Yeah, well, better than hanging, I suppose," she said. She eyed the food and picked up a turkey leg. She took a large bite and chewed thoughtfully, trying to figure out how to summarize two years of madness into a few sentences.

"Then, there was the Blight. I traveled around with Alistair for nearly two years - he was just another Grey Warden then - and we raised the army to tackle the archdemon," she said.

Anders held up a hand and chewed vigorously and swallowed, trying to get down a large mouthful. "You traveled with the King Alistair?"

"No, he wasn't King Alistair. He was just a guy," she laughed. "He had a huge crush on me."

Anders looked at her intently. "So did you ever... _you know?"_

Neria cocked her eyebrow. "No, I didn't and I'm glad I didn't when it became obvious he was going to be King. Can you imagine what a mess that would have been? 'Hello Ferelden, here's your new Queen; a freak of a mage and an elf to boot.' Yeah, that would have gone over well. Or even worse he would have tried to hide things or just outright dumped me." She shook her head. "So no. I didn't get involved with him."

"So we won over some nobles in Denerim, knocked a few heads, and barged into the Landsmeet. I somehow managed to convince Alistair to take the throne and I got the Landsmeet to accept him as the new king." She shrugged.

"Still not quite sure why they trusted me, a mage and an elf, to do that. I always wondered if perhaps I could have crowned myself that day. They seemed willing to do almost anything I said." She laughed. "No, I wouldn't have done that. I didn't want to get stuck with that job. Alistair didn't either but I told him it was his duty to his country and all that. Sucker. Amazing what you can get him to do if he thinks it is his duty."

Anders stopped stuffing his mouth for a minute and looked serious. "I just can't believe little Neria is... _you_. My little student who fainted at the sight of blood. Now you're telling the country who the king should be and telling the Chantry to go piss themselves." He really looked at her and for the first time saw her as the woman she had become, not the young girl he had known. She still had that cute, little girl look, probably always would due to her elven heritage, but there was a new aura around her; an aura of... _or-else_. '_You do as I say, or else I'm going to lance your head with lightning,' _he thought.

"Neria... er, Commander," he corrected himself, "Sorry, I'll try to remember to call you that."

Neria's eyes looked at him seriously, it just didn't feel right. "Call me Neria when it's just us."

Anders smiled and nodded, "Alright, Neria. So I have to ask, and forgive me I know it's a rude question but... you're just so cute, so small, a mage, and a woman, how did you manage to get so incredibly powerful? I can't even get little kids to listen to me, much less adults."

Neria laughed hard, Anders was right it was a question that mystified everyone that met her but hardly anyone ever dared ask. "I have a lot of big, intimidating friends. Plus I use the fact I'm a mage to good effect. Most people are afraid I'm going to melt their face off." She thought for a moment and added, "Except templars. I have to rely on my big, intimidating friends when they're around."

Anders laughed with her. "Big, intimidating friends; I need to acquire some."

"We're both going to need some. My old friends seem to have better things to do than be enforcers for me," she sighed. "Except Oghren, he isn't exactly big but he is intimidating."

Anders nodded, "He even smells intimidating."

Neria laughed and nodded.

~O~O~O~**  
**

The warehouse was unguarded and that made Neria suspicious. They would never put phylacteries in an unguarded warehouse. His _friend_, Namaya, said it was here. Then he had looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, surprising reminding her of Alistair's, and so here they were. This place could not have screamed _TRAP_ louder if there were a chorus of mezzo-sopranos singing it at the top of their lungs.

"Anders, this isn't right," she said. "There should be guards." She fidgeted nervously with the braid in her hair.

Anders gnawed on his lip. "I know, Commander. I know. But it's the only lead I have. We have to at least look," he insisted.

She frowned. She knew he was still nervous about the templars. They couldn't pass one without him suddenly looking around for a hiding place, and the encounter with Rylock... it even sent chills down her spine. _What if templars went rogue?_ _Maybe they had decided to take matters into their own hands and wouldn't obey Alistair. _

"Okay then, standard door opening procedure," she said. Oghren, you do the honors. Nathanial, be ready. I'm going to hustle in after Oghren and stun anyone in there." She looked at her team, they nodded. "Go."

Oghren drew his weapon and kicked in the door. It swung open. Rylock and another templar were there. "Looks like our little trap worked," she laughed.

Neria groaned. She had just known this would happen. There were no phylacteries in this room.

"Trap? What trap?" Anders said, "We're just fetching a... keg of cider for the..."

"Guards," Neria said.

"Tavern," Anders said simultaneously.

Neria looked at Anders and shrugged.

Rylock laughed harshly. "Is that so? Well, whichever it is, I have found a pair of dangerous apostates. Such a shame they died while I was trying to take them into custody."

Neria felt far too small next to the human templars in plate mail armor. It was damned hard to make people take you seriously when you're tiny compared to everyone else. The only way around it was usually to be excessively brutal and then at least your reputation would be big.

She threw back her own head and laughed mockingly at the templars. "Really, Rylock? You really want to fight a bunch of Grey Wardens? Are you daft, woman?"

"I'm doing my duty, _apostate_." Rylock suddenly was surrounded by a brilliant white light. It was one that Neria had never actually had used on her before. It made a whining, sucking sound then she was flung back as if she had exploded. It was her mana exploding, actually. She saw Anders being flung back as well. Nathaniel and Oghren were unaffected.

Oghren made a sound like a bronto being sick, his war cry, and rushed at Rylock. His massive hammer crushing her plate mail right into her hip. It threw her off balance and she screamed in what Neria hoped was agony.

Neria swore and picked herself up. She was just casting a sleep spell when the other templar unleashed his own smite. That whining, sucking sound followed by a painful explosion of mana detonating. She was again thrown backwards, this time hitting wall hard with her shoulder. She heard something crunch and pain exploded. She couldn't help gasping.

"Neria?" Anders looked over at her his face creasing with concern.

She couldn't hold her staff with that arm, she switched to the other arm. Anders threw a small heal at her, it helped with the pain a little, but her arm still felt worthless.

Finally, she could cast her sleep spell. Rylock didn't succumb but her partner did. Another massive blow from Oghren and Rylock crumpled to the floor. Neria wasn't sure if she was dead, but at least she wasn't moving.

"Don't kill the other templar, Og. We need to question him," Neria told him.

Oghren shook his head, "Can't, Commander," he growled.

He was in a berserking frenzy and nothing but completely crushing the enemy would break it. She called down a force shield on Oghren and he froze in place. Hopefully his frenzy would be gone by the time it wore off. "Nathaniel, bind the other templar, please."

"Rylock is alive, Commander, just unconscious." Anders told her.

The look he threw her showed his confused state. He probably wanted revenge like she did, but he was too nice. Neria however, was not.

Neria glared at her, biting her lip. "Stand aside," she ordered. She summoned a lightning bolt at Rylock. Her corpse was left smoking and smoldering inside the plate armor.

The other templar had awakened from his sleep and gasped, "Maker damn you to Oblivion, apostate!"

When Oghren came out of the force field he was himself again. "Take the templar to the smuggler's cove. I'll be along shortly," Neria ordered. Everyone filed out of the room but Neria caught Anders arm with her hand. She winced, it tweaked her sore shoulder.

"Oh, sorry," Anders apologized. He put his hand gently on her shoulder and sent a wave of healing magic through it. "Better?"

His healing magic was always surprisingly intimate. It always took the knots out of her muscles and relaxed her. It felt like what she imagined it would be like to have a loving parent kiss your knee when you fell and skinned it. She knew a little bit about healing, nothing like Anders though. She never had anyone tell her it felt special. Wynne's healing magic hadn't felt like that though. It was efficient, it definitely felt good, but the sort of good when something stopped hurting. It wasn't like Anders' magic.

"It's all better, Anders," she smiled at him.

She compressed her lips, thinking about what to do. The templars weren't just here for Anders, they seemed to think they had some jurisdiction over her too. She pointed at Rylock, "Too brutal?" she asked him.

"No. Well, maybe. I don't know. I just know I wanted her dead too," Anders met her eyes evenly.

She tugged her braid thoughtfully. "I don't know how to stop them," she admitted. "Even though I've recruited you, even though the King told them 'No', they keep trying." She nudged Rylock's corpse with her toe. "Maybe it's just Rylock. Maybe it will stop now. We can question the other one; find out why they persist. And why am I an apostate too all of a sudden?"

Anders nodded, "When you say question, what exactly do you mean?"

Neria met his gaze, "Don't ask me questions you don't want to know the answer to." She turned and started to walk away but this time his hand grabbed her wrist.

"You mean to torture him?" he asked.

"Is it anything less than what they did to you?" she answered him with her own question. Her hand went up to the little scar on his face that had once been a massive bruise and a long gash from their vicious kicks and beatings. She remembered that time in the tower, how that templar had cuffed him. She imagined it had only gotten worse.

"Neria, no," his grip tightened on her wrist. "We're supposed to be better than them."

She sighed. "How can you defend them after what you've been through? You know how fanatical they are." She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. She didn't have time to deal with crazy rogue templars. There were darkspawn to deal with, a conspiracy, someone attacking the trade routes...

"Alright, fine. We'll let him go with a warning," she said. Her gut told her she was making a huge mistake. She was doing it for him. _Why? _she wondered. _Why am I afraid of showing him who I really am? _She shut her eyes for a moment and the image of Amelia giggling and blushing at Anders flashed through her mind. _Oh, Hurlock crap, no!_

"Commander, are you okay?" Anders asked her.

She opened her eyes and her face settled into what she thought of as her commander face. "Let's go," she told him curtly.

They joined the others at the smuggler's cove. Nathaniel shook his head in disbelief when she told him to let the templar go.

"Look, _friend_," Neria said, in a way that clearly did not convey friendship, "I don't know what wild hare was up Rylock's ass about Grey Warden mages, but hear me now: Grey Wardens are out of the jurisdiction of the Chantry and the Crown will back me up on that."

The templar glared at her and smirked. "Is that so, _apostate_? Perhaps we'll just have to see when word gets out that you killed Captain Rylock."

"Go, just go. And if anyone else has an urge to come looking for Grey Warden mages you might want to remind them of what happened to Rylock."

Oghren growled, "Don't fuck with the Wardens."

Neria almost wanted to kiss Oghren right then. She couldn't have said it better. _But why does it sound so much more real coming from him than me? _It was the curse of being a small, female mage. No one ever took her seriously until she beat the crap out of them.


	3. Chapter 3

Anders opened his door to the quiet knock. He still hadn't gotten used to having a room to himself, with an actual door and a lock. The entire notion of privacy was nearly overwhelming.

"Come in," he told Neria. She stood at his door with her cloak pulled around her. She was holding her cloak closed from inside. There was a little smile playing at the corners of her lips. She plopped herself down in a chair, struggling to keep her cloak closed still.

"Um, cold?" Anders asked.

"Me? No," she replied. Her smile got a little wider.

"Okay..." he said suspiciously. "Then why the..." he gestured at her cloak.

"Ow," she said. She shifted uncomfortably in the chair, struggling with something under her cloak. "It's a surprise. Close your eyes."

He grinned, "You're not naked under there are you? That _would_ be a surprise."

She made a wry face and shook her head. "Close your eyes!" she ordered him.

He looked at her suspiciously and then obeyed. He closed his eyes then he felt... something very sharp and soft in his lap. "OW!" he yelped and his eyes opened. A tiny marmalade kitten was sitting on his lap, it's tiny claws clinging to him. His heart melted. "A kitten! Where did you find him?"

"He was out in the staff compound. I didn't see his mother around and he looked half-starved. You like cats, right?"

"Aw, he's so cute!" Anders picked up the kitten and held him up to his face and bumped noses with him. The kitten licked his nose and purred.

Neria smiled. "It looks like I guessed right. You do like him."

"Of course, I do!" Anders held the kitten to his chest and cooed. He looked at Neria and wondered if she had known just how lonely he had been feeling. The privacy and freedom were amazing but he was also experiencing loneliness for the first time in his life. The kitten was just the thing to ward that off.

"Well, I'm glad!" she got up and headed to the door.

"Wait," Anders said. He got up and hugged her with his free arm, the kitten pressed between them. "Thanks, Neria." She left. Anders held the kitten to his chest, listening to it's surprisingly loud purr. It was so tiny, so cute, and it had pointed ears.

"What do you mean, Ser Pounce-a-Lot?" he asked the kitten. "Are you just a cute, fuzzy-wuzzy, kitty gift or are you something more?"

~O~O~O~

Neria returned to her room to think about _things. _Chaos was the rule these days. They were slowly making progress but it seemed like things could spiral out of control with the blink of an eye. Somehow they had managed to recover every time it happened, so far. Her team was working well together. Oghren was surprising her with how he was able to get serious and get control of his drinking when he needed to. She and Nathaniel had come to a workable relationship after a very rocky start. Sigrun was just a joy to work with. For someone supposedly _dead_ she had an incredible appreciation for living. _Everyone should be so dead, _she thought.

Velanna was...Velanna. She seemed to be hating everyone a little less now, thankfully. From time to time she was actually cooperative. At one time, Neria thought she might be able to bond with her; they were both elves, she reasoned, Velanna might exempt her from the scorn she treated humans with. However, she was wrong. Velanna thought of her as a "flat-eared" elf, a city-elf, one that was pretty much a human in all but appearance.

Leading and making decisions that affected people's lives always made Neria a little sick to her stomach. She had somehow evolved of a philosophy; make people want to please you through affection and respect first. If that doesn't work, use fear. Neria rarely had to resort to the fear tactic, she never would with one of her Grey Wardens, but outsiders were another matter entirely. One of the advantages of her team strategy was if someone failed to give her respect, the team would usually apply pressure until the recalcitrant person fell in line while she got to remain outside of the conflict. It seemed to be working, even with Velanna.

Then there was making decisions. Neria's philosophy was to make decisions quickly and never look back. The first part was easy. She knew decisions you agonized over were no more likely to be right than ones you make quickly with your gut. The "not looking back" part, that wasn't so easy. Killing Rylock had been one of those decisions. Easy to make, not so easy to refrain from stewing over afterward. In particular, killing Rylock and leaving the other templar alive seemed like a bad combination now. It would be viewed as a defiant challenge of the Grey Wardens to the Chantry, depending on what was going on with the Chantry. She had no visibility into the Chantry right now and just did not have the time explore that issue, so she shunted her mind to another problem.

_Anders_...

That problem was just as confounding and opaque to her as the Chantry problem. Actually, Anders wasn't the problem at all; _she_ was the problem, or more precisely her feelings for him were the problem. It was entirely inappropriate and she knew it. There was something so vulnerable about him and she found it so appealing. Well, that and his handsome face and his kindness, and, oddly, his hands. She really loved his hands. They were so big and yet finely formed, he used them very expressively when he talked, and they made her feel wonderful when he healed her.

_Don't think about his hands, _she warned herself. That could start a series of unproductive daydreams that just lead her to the frustrating conclusion that she was destined to be alone.

~O~O~O~

Knight-Commander Tavish clenched his fists as the Fionn described the encounter with the Grey Wardens in Amaranthine.

"Ser, the Warden-Commander slew Captain Rylock as she lay helpless," Fionn told him.

"This cannot stand," Tavish said. "The Wardens cannot be allowed to be led by an apostate mage and must not be a haven for apostates and maleficars."

In Tavish's opinion any mage not under Chantry supervision was an apostate, regardless of their affiliation with the Grey Wardens. The Chantry had never before taken a position on the matter, in Ferelden, since the Warden's had been banished from Ferelden for so long, and only returned recently, and their numbers were few. _But now, to be led by a mage... this is untenable_.

"Thank you, Fionn, for your report," Tavish said. He got up and walked to the Denerim Chantry and asked for an audience with the Grand Cleric, Mother Sweeney. He was seen without a long delay.

Mother Sweeney greeted Knight-Commander Tavish with a blessing. _"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."_

Tavish knelt while she intoned her blessing. _The corrupt and wicked indeed, _he thought.

"Mother," he said, "Your blessing is nearly prescient." He stood up and they walked to a pair of chairs. "As you know, the Grey Wardens in Ferelden are being led by a mage. She recently recruited an escaped apostate and maleficar. There is absolutely no Chantry supervision of the Grey Warden mages." He ran his hand through his hair.

"Captain Rylock confronted the Grey Warden Commander in Amaranthine, demanding the apostate mage from her, but she refused and King Alistair backed her up," he continued. "Then Rylock discovered that the Warden-Commander and the escaped apostate were trying to find their phylacteries to destroy them. In the process, they killed Captain Rylock..."

"Maker, have mercy on her spirit," Mother Sweeney said with a sigh. "The King, despite his templar training, is resistant to Chantry influence." Mother Sweeney stood and paced in front of Tavish.

"Revered Mother, if I could but take a contingent of templars, I believe we could apprehend..."

Mother Sweeney held up her hand to stop him. "No, Tavish. I think that would be unwise. The popularity of the Grey Wardens is very high; any move the Chantry makes against them is likely to turn against us, at this time." She put her finger to her lips thinking deeply. "They're still dealing with darkspawn in the North, interfering with that would be unwise."

Tavish nodded. "You are right, Revered Mother. Not everyone, however, is so enamored of the Warden-Commander. There are whispers in Amaranthine of some discontentment from nobles loyal to the deceased Arl Howe."

She nodded, "Yes, but the rest of the country remains convinced the Grey Wardens can do no wrong."

"Perhaps," Tavish said, "the country needs to see they can do wrong?"

Mother Sweeney smiled. "Of course, Knight-Commander. Bide by for now. Let us see how the Wardens deal with the darkspawn and events in the North. There may be developments that will work in our favor. We can't openly move against them now. However, there is ample opportunity to seek out alliances and begin to plant the seeds of doubt."

Mother Sweeney closed her eyes and chanted.

_"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.  
Foul and corrupt are they  
Who have taken His gift  
And turned it against His children.  
They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones.  
They shall find no rest in this world  
Or beyond._"

"Maker's blessing upon you, Tavish. I will discuss this matter again with you when the time is right," she told the templar.

Tavish bowed to the Revered Mother and left. _'Magic turned against His children, they shall be named maleficar.' Certainly the Warden-Commander had turned magic against Captain Rylock, even if it wasn't blood magic, doesn't that make her a maleficar? _he thought. _They shall find no rest in this world._ Tavish would make sure of that.


	4. Chapter 4

_Credibility is one of the most elusive attributes a person can strive for. Being middle-aged, male, tall, having a thick head of hair and a low, persuasive voice adds much to one's credibility. Just ask Cassandra, she was granted the ability to know the future, but Apollo cursed her so that noone would believe what she said. Apollo wasn't the brightest god in the Greek pantheon, he really need not have bothered. Being young, beautiful, and female just made the curse redundant. The only things that could have made it worse would be if she were also __elvhen __and a mage, as Neria could have told her.  
_

_~O~O~O~_

Things were spinning wildly out of control now. Approaching the Vigil, they saw the crowd of angry peasants with pitchforks and torches, always a bad combination. The crowd was buzzing, like an angry beehive.

"We're starving!" their leader yelled. "The Maker is punishing us because you harbor apostates and maleficars in your midst." The crowd cheered in support of his statement.

Varel spoke, his calm, deep voice struggling to be heard over the angry crowd. "Please, please, settle down. The Grey Wardens are doing everything in their power to gain an advantage over the darkspawn. They are making progress and we believe we're close to finding out the source of the problem."

Neria made her way to Varel's side. The crowd parted to let her company of Wardens through.

"What is happening?" she asked.

"Commander," Varel whispered, "this appears to have been instigated. If this is a real revolt, I'll eat my boot."

"I wouldn't be surprised if the Chantry had a role to play in this as well," she said. Varel nodded in agreement. "Well, what do you recommend?"

"Try to speak to them, reassure them," Varel said.

Captain Garevel shook his head and said, impatience obvious in his voice, "Varel, you don't coddle a revolt. You bloody put it down. Just give me the order!"

Neria didn't think with their mood against mages the crowd was going to be receptive to listening to her. Still, she had to try.

"Good people, I know you've been through a lot in the past several weeks. The Grey Wardens have not forgotten you. We have reopened trade routes and put down a number of darkspawn incursions into the farm lands, but we are still searching for the source of the darkspawn problems. I believe we are closer than ever and I truly believe we will have this resolved soon. I ask for your forebearance for a few more weeks..."

"Maleficar!" someone in the crowd called out.

"Apostate!" someone else cried.

Neria sought out the source of the voices. Those faces looked familiar, she was fairly certain they were not peasants. Perhaps people planted in the crowd by the Chantry.

The crowd jeered, raising their pitchforks in anger.

She looked over at Garevel. "Stand ready, Captain." Captain Garevel made a gesture and his soldiers drew weapons and stood ready to move.

"Please, good people of Amaranthine," she said - _and Chantry plants, _she thought to herself - "you must disperse now," she ordered the mob.

Something Nathaniel had said to her weeks ago, '_Shouldn't you be ten feet tall with lightning shooting out of your eyes?', _had stuck with her. She had been dabbling in illusions ever since she found the book in the library of the Tower, _"Illusions: The Forgotten School". _It wasn't much of a how-to book, mostly it was just stories of mages using illusions, but it had always intrigued Neria and she had been working on trying to rediscover illusions. She had one spell in particular that she had been working on. The only problem with illusions was that you yourself could not see them or experience them, so you just had to have faith it worked.

Neria focused her will and watched those around her for reactions. A sudden stillness descended over the courtyard.

"You must disperse, _NOW!_" She spoke strongly, but heard nothing more than her own voice. The crowd however was gasping with shock. They nearly stampeded out of the courtyard, shouting in panic. She was afraid they'd knock down the vendor's stalls and trample the guards. _Well, that worked! _she thought.

Varel and Garevel stared at her. She dropped the spell and saw Varel swallow.

"It worked, I take it?" she asked.

Anders stared at her, eyes big. "Maker, Commander. What was... that?"

She shook her head, "I was trying to be ten feet tall with lightning bolts shooting out of my eyes and a very loud voice. Did I come close?"

Anders began to laugh. It turned into a belly laugh, he couldn't stop himself. "You were a six-foot tall rabbit and you squeaked with the shrillest, most ear-piercing sound I've ever heard. I thought my ears were going to bleed."

"No lightning bolts from the eyes, then?" she asked, frowning.

Nathaniel was gasping for breath, he was laughing so hard. "No, but there were puffs of steam coming from your ears."

Velanna could barely repress her own smile, "I thought for sure she was going to attack the nearest lettuce patch. Those people are surely running back home to defend against the Bunny of Doom."

Neria frowned, not quite willing to let go of her dreams of mastering illusions.

Varel shook his head, "I'm not so sure terrifying the peasants with over-sized rodents is going to help with the accusations the Chantry is throwing around."

Neria frowned, "Well, at least we avoided bloodshed. Don't I get any credit for that?"

Varel chuckled and squeezed Neria's shoulder in a friendly grip. "Of course, Commander. I just hope the peasants find some humor in this when the shock wears off."

"Neria, maybe we can spruce up your illusion a bit, make it less... whimsical?" Anders whispered to her.

She laughed and nodded.

"Before this... mess began, some nobles were awaiting an audience with you, Commander," Varel said.

"Let's go in." She led the way into the Keep.

Bann Esmerelle and Ser Timothy were awaiting her, both were armed and armored.

"Bann Esmerell, the Commander," Varel gestured to Neria. "Now, what was this urgent matter?"

"I am here about the good Arl. The Arl _you_ killed!" She sneered in Neria's face.

"You're still loyal to Rendon Howe?" Varel asked in disbelief.

"We do not want to be represented at the Landsmeet by an elf, an apostate mage!" she spat out the words like they were tainted. "Rendon was good to us," she said, "Good to me." Her face twisted into a sneer, "And now his death will finally be avenged."

Varel's caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He saw an archer aiming a crossbow at the Commander. His arm shot out and the bolt sank into his forearm, protecting the Commander.

Neria gasped as Varel sank to the floor, holding his forearm. "Careful, Commander," he cautioned her. Crows stepped out from behind the columns as did Lady Morag.

Neria and her team reacted quickly. She drew her power in and compressed it into a tight ball, then she released it. It made a concussive boom that stunned their enemies, momentarily.

Oghren growled and launched himself at the lead Crow. "Didn't I already warn you guys about fucking with the Wardens a time or two in the past? I'm beginning to lose patience."

Neria looked around, wondering if perhaps Zevran were... _No, he wouldn't, _she thought, trying to reassure herself that her former lover wouldn't betray her like that.

Most of the Crows and nobles were easily defeated, the lead Crow was taking a little effort, but Oghren managed to keep him distracted while Neria and Velanna handled other things. Anders knelt down to attend to Varel. The battle ended quickly and Neria checked the bodies.

"Oh, Maker!" she gasped as she came across a the body of a blond Crow. She held her breath as she turned the corpse over. She drew a deep breath when she realized it wasn't Zevran. Still, he reminded her of him. She felt a moment of regret for the relationship that had ended not long after the archdemon had died. _It was a simple gift that had lead to their breakup, _she mused. She had wanted the gift to mean something and he had insisted it was nothing more than payment. She refused the gift and then she realized it was only a matter of time until he looked for his pleasures elsewhere. Although, to be fair, it was a little more complicated than that. She realized that _she_ would care when he finally got around to looking for his pleasures elsewhere. That thought preyed on her until she realized she needed to end the relationship.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned. Anders was watching her expression closely.

"Commander, are you alright?" he checked her for wounds, she looked whole.

She nodded. "Just a memory."

Anders cocked his head, not sure he believed her. "A painful one?"

"An old wound, nearly healed," she replied, brusquely.

Oghren was also watching. He saw her searching the bodies of the Crows and heard her gasp when she found the blond elf. He strolled over and put a hand on her shoulder. "He wouldn't do it, Commander," Oghren told her. "There's not much he wouldn't do, but I don't believe for minute he would ever do that."

"I hope you're right, Oghren."

Oghren took her hand and pulled her to the dining room. He got two glasses from the butler's pantry and pour them both a stiff drink. "To lost loves," he toasted.

Neria raised her glass. She smiled grimly at Oghren. If anyone knew about loves lost, it was Oghren. She thought perhaps he wasn't as impervious to emotional pain as he seemed to the casual observer.

Anders watched them from the doorway for a moment. _What was that about? _he wondered. Then he went off to help Velanna with injuries, of the visible sort he knew how to heal.

~O~O~O~

Neria answered the knock on her study door and found Anders holding a head of lettuce. "I thought you might be hungry," he handed her the lettuce with a smile.

"Oh very funny! I suppose the rabbit jokes will never cease now," she glared at him but a smile quirked her lips.

"Let's work on that illusion," he suggested.

Neria nodded. They went to find a mirror where she could see her own illusion. She discovered that the difficulty was holding a mental image of what you wanted to create. At the peasant revolt she must have seen a rabbit and been distracted. During one attempt she accidentally made herself look like Anders. Closing her eyes shut out the extraneous signals to her brain and eventually she came up with an illusion that put a glowing golden nimbus around herself and amplified her voice. She thought it was probably a better idea than the idea Nathaniel had put forth, a little more gentle, yet still impressive.

Anders thought it could be very useful to copy people, so he encouraged her to work on that. They found that if someone touched the illusion and what they touched didn't reflect what they expected, the illusion would be dispelled for that person. She copied Oghren at dinner. No one was fooled. One Oghren slurped soup directly from his bowl and burped. The other one used a spoon and delicately dabbed at his face with his napkin. Anyone who came close enough found that the dainty version also smelled nicely of a floral scent, the other one smelled more... authentic.

~O~O~O~

Events spiraled out of control again. It made little sense. Darkspawn came in two flavors these days: insane and crazy. The insane ones babbled about the _Mother_ and crazy ones babbled about the _Architect. _Neria thought she liked the crazy ones best. She and her small team secured Amaranthine city from the insane ones and followed one of the crazy ones to Dragonbone Wastes.

The decisions had been impossible to make, but she made them anyway, in her usual manner, quickly and without too much analysis. Deciding between the city and the Vigil had been easy once she saw Nathaniel's face as he worried about his sister. These were the people that they were supposed to protect. The Vigil had soldiers, not enough but some, Grey Wardens, and a lot of dwarven engineering to hold it safe. She would have faith that it could stand. Her gut served her well and there were far more survivors in the city than the captains had thought. She shuddered to think if she had burned the city instead of trying to save it.

~O~O~O~

Justice carried the unconscious Neria into the Vigil. Anders leaned heavily on Nathaniel. Her team was a mess. The Vigil was a mess, the front gate was completely broken. A few walls were badly damaged. The courtyard was strewn with the corpses of defenders and darkspawn. Neither mage had enough strength left to light a candle. Anders had been unable to heal Neria as she was dragged to the ground and savaged by a larval darkspawn. They had run short of lyrium. Justice had killed the foul creature but it's poisoned pincer was left in her chest, near her shoulder. They were afraid the bleeding would be too much if they removed it.

Neria stirred briefly as Justice carried her to her room. "Wha?" she said. Then she saw the great bloody stain on her robe and the pincer sticking out of her and she fainted again.

Justice put her down carefully on her bed. Everyone looked expectantly at Anders. Anders was so drained, he could barely remain upright.

"I can't do this without lyrium. There must be lyrium somewhere." He sagged against her bedpost.

Nathaniel ran downstairs to start sifting through the wreckage to see what he could find.

Anders sat down heavily next to Neria. He bent over her and whispered into her ear, "Be strong, Neria. It won't be much longer." He smoothed her sweat-soaked hair back from her face.

"Justice, could you find some clean water, hot if possible, and some clean cloths. And tell Oghren to come up here with the strongest booze he has."

Anders pushed away his exhaustion and got a sharp dagger and started to cut away at Neria robe around the pincer.

Oghren shoved his way into the room. He was covered in gore from his own battle outside the Vigil. "I hear the Commander needs a stiff drink." He looked at her unconscious form on the bed. "She doesn't look in much condition to drink, Anders."

"No, it's not for drinking. We need to clean the wound, the alcohol in the booze should work. At least until we can find some damn lyrium!" Anders was getting frustrated.

Oghren handed Anders a bottle. "That pincer needs to come out."

"I think it's the only thing keeping her from hemorrhaging."

Justice came back with the water and clean cloth and Nathaniel found a single small bottle of lyrium.

"That's it?" Anders said. "Just this one bottle?"

Nathaniel nodded. "That's all I could find. Velanna is nowhere to be found."

Anders rubbed his forehead, trying to collect his thoughts. He swallowed the lyrium and sighed, feeling his energy coming back, at least a little. He cleaned around the wound as best he could with the water and cloth and poured some of Oghren's booze around the pincer. Neria groaned and her eyes fluttered open.

"Anders, it hurts!" Her breath was coming in frightened pants as she saw the thing sticking out of her chest.

"Don't look at it, Neria." He turned her head away from the wound so she wouldn't see it. "Breathe normally," he told her.

"Hey, Commander. I got something for the pain." Oghren propped her up and put the bottle of booze to her lips. "Come on, knock some of this back."

Neria was trembling from the pain, but she swallowed some of the alcohol. Much of it ran down her chin. "Burns!" she complained.

"Yeah, it's the good stuff," Oghren told her. He gave her a few moments to recover. "More," he ordered her. He tipped the bottle up again. He cringed as he saw a lot of it dribble down her chin, _what a waste_.

"No more," Neria sobbed as the drink burned down her throat.

Anders looked at the pincer. "Someone has to pull that thing out. I'm going to need my hands free."

Nathaniel turned green and shook his head. "I'll try to find more lyrium." He practically ran out of the room.

Anders looked at Oghren. "Oghren, maybe you should do it."

Oghren frowned. "Yeah, I've seen worse."

Anders noticed he went a little pale.

Neria whimpered. "Just get it out!"

Anders grabbed her hand with one of his own. "Hold on, Neria." He nodded to Oghren.

Oghren pressed his free hand on Neria's chest to hold her still, his other hand on the pincer. He pulled up on it. Neria screamed and blood flowed copiously from the wound. The pincer came out a few inches but then stuck, caught on a bone. Oghren fought down panic and changed the angle he was drawing it out from and this time it came free. Neria fainted again, looking as white as the sheets on her bed.

"Sorry, Commander," Oghren mumbled. He got out of Anders's way and stood at the foot of the bed to watch.

Anders put his hand over the wound and concentrated. A gentle blue light surrounded his hand. The bleeding slowed and eventually stopped. He kept up the healing as long as he could until what little reserves he had gave out. He then carefully bandaged the wound.

Oghren nodded at Anders. He handed him the bottle of Hirol's Lava Burst. "In case you need it," he said. "Come on, Justice. Let's go find some lyrium." The two men left the two mages alone.

Anders got to his feet and closed her bedroom door. With his little remaining strength he got her out of her robe and tucked her under the covers. He built a fire up in her fireplace. He didn't want to leave, just in case she got worse. He kicked off his shoes and got into bed with her and lay with his arm over her chest, but carefully avoiding her wound, so he could feel her heart beating and her lungs working. Eventually the sound of her quiet breathing lulled him to sleep.

~O~O~O~

Anders awoke at dawn. The Vigil was absolutely silent. Normally at dawn there were roosters crowing, servants were starting to stir. Not today. He suspected the servants had mostly fled or been killed in the attack. Probably the chickens as well.

Neria had shifted in the night, and so had he. They were fitted together like nesting spoons. Her wounded side was up, free of the covers. His arm was wrapped around her, his hand, rather embarrassingly, on her breast. When he became aware of that fact it devolved into a mental debate that went on for quite some time.

_If I move my hand she might wake up. Hm, my hand fits over her entire breast. No... do not flick her nipple with your thumb. Maker, Anders! Get a grip. Er, no. Belay that order. Don't get a grip._

He finally moved his hand, regretfully. She stirred and shifted, pushing herself closer to him. He raised his head to see if she were awake. _No, asleep. _He wasn't quite sure how it would sound if he explained why he was in bed with her. _I wanted to make sure you kept breathing... didn't get a fever_..._ and I was too exhausted to sit in a chair all night. _It was all true, of course.

_I can just slide out of bed right now and we can avoid all the embarrassing questions. _The rational part of his brain thought this was a stellar idea. He looked down at his patient. She was still a bloody mess from the battle the night before. Of course, so was he. They hadn't had the time or energy to clean up. Still, the tendrils of fine chestnut hair fell into her closed eyes, somehow they hadn't been matted with blood. And that reminded him of those serious-looking gray eyes, the ones rimmed with those delicate black eyelashes, with the dark circles under them now, which contrasted so completely with her pale skin. The skin that had a splattering of freckles across the nose when she had been out in the sun, they were free of reminders of that battle. As were her delicate ears...

Anders reigned himself in. He tried to slide away from Neria, to the side of the bed, but she had rolled onto his gown, which he was still wearing. He was trapped. He tugged on the robe, gently pulling it out from under her. She stirred and started to roll over, which would have put her wounded area under her. Anders reached out to stop her.

"Anders?" her eyes cracked open just barely.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you but I saw you about to roll over on your wound," he told her.

"So, Oghren didn't kill me when he pulled that thing out? Because I felt like I died," she laughed weakly.

"No, we got you patched together again. I did the best I could with one tiny lyrium potion. And the reason I'm in your bed is because..."

"Oghren got me drunk on that horrible stuff he made me drink and I seduced you with a pincer in my chest?" she asked.

Anders laughed. "You weren't in much of a condition to seduce anyone."

"And I've still got my small clothes on and you're totally dressed," she sighed. "So I must have failed miserably."

Anders pulled his robe out from under her and got out of bed. "Lets see that wound." He walked around to her side of the bed. "How does it feel?"

"Like I had a big jagged thing, dripping in poison, rammed through me. But other than that, it feels good, really good."

He turned her so she was flat on her back, he pulled down the blanket, trying hard not to look at her, and unwrapped the bandages. He put his hand on the wound, delicately so as not to not hurt her. The skin felt a little hot around the wound. He put a hand on her forehead to check for fever, she had a small fever. He used his healing spell on her again, the one that also cleansed poison and infection. Something unexpected leaked into the spell. It was some sort of magic he was unfamiliar with. He had noticed it before when he had healed her. Oddly it only seemed to happen with her. Her breath hitched for a moment and her eyes closed.

"Did that hurt?" he asked, concern in his eyes.

"No... it's fine. It feels much better."

The little crease between her eyebrows told him she wasn't saying something.

"I think I can get up," she said.

"Whoa! No! You lost a lot of blood and had poison in your system for a long time. Just stay in bed today and I'll check on you. Maybe tomorrow... maybe!" he scolded her.

"I need to at least get a bath, I'm... covered in ick."

"I'll see if there are any servants around. It might not be a bath, but I can at least bring you some water to wash up with."

"Anders?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay? Is everyone else okay?"

He shook his head, "I am okay, just exhausted. Nathaniel and Justice are fine. Oghren looks okay too. I haven't seen anyone else, we just brought you up here. I'll have someone come by to give you a report after you get cleaned up, okay?"

She nodded and smiled at him. She reached out for his hand and squeezed it warmly. "Thanks for looking after me."

He couldn't help himself, he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "Of course, Neria."

_~O~O~O~_

**Note: **Sorry it took so long for this chapter. I must have rewritten 3 times before I finally thought it was so-so. :p


	5. Chapter 5

The week after the Mother was killed, people who had fled the Vigil began to return. Voldrick, the dwarven engineer who had reinforced much of the keep, was rightfully proud of how his work had withstood much of the onslaught. Neria had to move the returning staff into the keep, rather than the quarters just outside, because most of those quarters had been destroyed.

The overall mood of the Arling was good. There had been no further attacks and the citizens were overjoyed that Amaranthine city had been saved. A few weeks ago, Neria had been snarled at when she met with her vassals, now they were bringing her gifts of food for the people in the keep, in particular for the Grey Wardens. It felt good to be liked, for a change.

Varel handed her the message delivered this morning from Denerim. King Alistair wanted her to report to him in Denerim about the attacks. He promised to send help and supplies and whatever assistance he could. Neria didn't want to leave now, there was too much to do here, but Varel was probably better qualified than she was to overseeing matters at the Keep. She decided Nathaniel could fill her shoes, such as they were, while she went to Denerim. Then she had to decide who to take with her.

"You're taking me, aren't you?" Anders had overheard her talking with Nathaniel and Varel about the trip.

Neria sighed, "I don't know if that would be wise. I think the source of our problem with the Chantry is in Denerim. It's bad enough that I have to go there but if you go, I don't know what they would do."

"Could it really be that bad? Wouldn't we be under Alistair's protection in the palace?" Anders had learned that Neria was unable to resist puppy-dog eyes and he was using them now. "I've never been to Denerim."

Neria chewed her lip, pondering. She was mostly just sick to death of having to worry about the Chantry. _What's the worst thing that could happen_? she thought. _Maybe they'd try to put her and Anders back in the Tower but certainly Alistair would intervene. _Besides, they were heroes again, at least up in the North. She thought she was probably worrying over nothing. A mood of rebelliousness took hold of her. _Sod it all! I refuse to worry over the damn Chantry._

"Eh," she said, "I'm sick of thinking about the damned Chantry, Anders. We are going to Denerim!"

Anders cheered and swept his tiny Commander up in a big hug and twirled her around the room. "Hooray!" he shouted, "I'll go pack!"

Neria considered a little more and thought it might be wise to take Sigrun, just in case. _Shit, here I go working out contingency plans again. Didn't I just declare I wasn't going to worry about the Chantry, now I'm planning out what-if scenarios._

She spoke to Captain Garavel and they had two soldiers assigned to escort them to Denerim. The very next morning they left for Denerim.

Neria had never spent much time on a horse, neither had Anders or Sigrun, so this journey to Denerim on horseback was an adventure for them. The mages dressed in riding leathers, leaving off their robes. Neria liked wearing breeches. She thought she could redesign her mage robe so that it would be more like a long coat, open from the waist down, she could wear over breeches or trousers. She decided to find a seamstress once they reached Denerim.

They stopped at an inn just half a day's ride from Amaranthine. All of the Wardens were horribly saddle-sore, since none were adept at riding.

"At this rate, walking would have been faster," Anders complained. He limped into the inn and they seated themselves around a table by the fire.

Sigrun followed behind, her legs felt like jelly. "Can you heal these muscles, Anders?"

Neria sat down, her butt was particularly tender from the bumpy ride.

"Um, yes..." Anders said, "However, it requires I place my hands on the affected portion of your anatomy."

Neria snickered. "Oh bollocks! You know it doesn't."

Anders sniffed, "My healing magic works best that way!" He looked at Neria scornfully, "As if you'd know. Did you ever manage to learn a single healing spell?" He turned to Sigrun, "She was hopeless as a healer. I used to _try _to tutor her, but she passed out any time she saw blood." Sigrun laughed.

"Ha! I did so learn a healing spell," she retorted. To demonstrate she healed Sigrun. "How was that, Sigrun?"

Sigrun shifted in her chair. "Better... but I'm still pretty sore."

"Well," Neria grumbled, "healing magic isn't really meant to heal sore muscles. That isn't exactly damage, per se, it's a natural response to overusing a muscle."

Anders grinned. "Oh really?" He smiled at Sigrun, "Er, may I try?"

Sigrun laughed, "Yeah, just don't get any ideas."

Anders reached over and touched her thighs. A wave of blue light played around her lower extremities.

Sigrun sighed with relief and raised her eyebrow at Neria. "Not meant to heal sore muscles, eh?"

Anders healed his own sore legs then looked at Neria meaningfully. "Commander, relief for the sore tuckus?"

Neria sighed, she wasn't about to have Anders put his hands on her butt in the middle of the inn, but she truly was hurting. "Well, not here. It's a little too public." She gestured to the innkeeper. "How many rooms do you have available?" she asked.

"We have three rooms available," the innkeeper said.

"Very well, we'll take them all. We're going to need some food too."

"Yes, Ser. My girl can show you up to the rooms and we'll have some food ready for you shortly."

"Anders, looks like you get a room to yourself," Neria said. "The rest of us can share."

They followed the innkeeper's daughter to their rooms. Neria slung down her pack and went to Anders room.

"Commander?" he asked.

"My sore posterior, you claimed you could heal it?" Neria reminded him.

"Oh, right! Come on in." He shut the door behind her. "Um, pardon me." The worst part of his healing method was it required a hands-on approach to work best. That also happened to be the best part of his healing method, it just depended on the patient. He reached out with his hand and placed it on his commander's behind. He did his best to remain professional about the situation, still he couldn't help but note how shapely her posterior was in her riding clothes. They were appealingly form-fitting, unlike her typical mage-wear which did little to display her feminine assets, as it were.

He concentrated a moment and summoned his healing magic into her sore muscles. It happened again! That _something else_ leaked into his magic. It tinged the healing light a deeper hue of blue with purple hints. Neria gasped and, he thought, though perhaps he was imagining it, she half-closed her eyes as if she were... aroused?

"Are you alright, Neria?" he asked.

Neria collected herself. _What the hell is that? _she wondered. Every time Anders healed her she felt like she had just been caressed, intimately, by a lover. She was having a difficult enough time trying to keep her emotional distance from Anders, this was making that much more difficult. "Is it my imagination, Anders, or is there something more than healing involved in your magic?" she asked.

Anders looked away from her, trying to figure out how to explain what he didn't understand himself. "What do you mean?" he asked, deftly lobbing the issue back to her.

Neria fidgeted and pulled on the little braid in her hair. "I just mean that every time you heal me, I feel..." she blushed furiously and waved her hand around helplessly, searching for words that didn't exist, to describe sexual feelings without actually describing sexual feelings. "I feel, well... unusual."

Anders couldn't repress a small smile. Her discomfiture was rather fun to watch. "Unusual?" he asked, an eyebrow lifted, deflecting her once again.

She was starting to lose her temper. "Yes, dammit, _unusual. _What are you doing?"

"Neria, I swear I'm not doing anything different. At least, not intentionally. It's the same spell I use on everyone, although to be honest I notice there's something different that happens when I heal you." He hesitated, not sure what to say. "I think it is you, though, almost like you're making it happen."

"Me?" she asked, indignantly. "I'm not the one casting the magic!"

Anders shrugged. "I can't explain it." He smiled slyly. "Unless, of course, maybe it's a sign of some sort."

Neria's eyebrows crashed down to her nose in a scowl. "Sign of what?"

"Well..." Now it was Anders turn to feel embarrassed. "That we should be... _together-ish_."

"Together..._ish?" _she asked. _Oh, right, together-ish. That was the arrangement I had with Zevran. All the fun, none of the commitment. Right. I'm not repeating that mistake again._ "That wouldn't be appropriate. I'm your commander."

"Aren't you getting tired of living by rules someone else makes up?" His arched brow reflecting frustration. "The chantry, the tower, the templars, and everyone else who feels they have the right to weigh in on how mages should live their lives?" Anders watched her face closely.

Neria rubbed her forehead. _Shoulds. I'm sick of shoulds, _she thought. _ I should do this. I shouldn't feel that._ She felt a rebellion welling up within her, threatening to storm the gates of her self-control, but something of the discipline that had seen her through the Blight just wouldn't back down. "I should go," she said. _Should, again!_ She took a step toward the door.

Anders saw the conflict on her face, Neria was lousy at hiding her emotions. He blocked her path to the door. They locked eyes for a moment. _Anders, you idiot. What are you doing? _he asked himself. His hands went to her shoulders and he pulled her to him. He leaned down to kiss her and she didn't pull away. Her lips were soft and inviting. He felt a tingling jolt that started where their lips met and blazed a path to his feet. He felt her hand brush against his jaw for just a moment, then it dropped and she pulled away. Her gray eyes looked into his. The little line appeared where her brows had drawn together.

Neria drew a deep breath. She wanted nothing more than to not do what she was going to do next. "No, Anders. This can't be." She pushed past him and went back to her room she was sharing with Sigrun to collect herself.

Anders leaned against his door, a bemused smile on his face. If there was one thing Anders was sure of now, Neria's words didn't match up with that kiss. His blood fizzed in his veins. He felt a giddy happiness he hadn't felt since he had realized he was finally free of the tower and templars. It was odd, wasn't it? That he would find himself so attracted to tiny, petite Neria. She wasn't the sort of woman he had imagined himself with; his baser fantasies always conjured up larger women, with ripe, succulent curves and domineering personalities. He couldn't have imagined a opposite further from his former ideal than Neria. Something about her made him want to protect her. He knew it wasn't just him. Everyone who knew Neria seemed to want to protect her. It was just her particular talent, or gift.

Later the travelers gathered in the common room and ate their midday meal. Sigrun laughed and joked as usual, but was attentive to everything around her. Anders, she noted, was watching Neria when he thought she wouldn't notice. Neria was intensely interested in her food, or pretended to be, and didn't speak much. Sigrun smiled to herself. It was a sort of love triangle; Anders, Neria and Neria's duty coming between them, she guessed. She knew little of any rules the Grey Wardens had regarding fraternization, the Legion had rules but looked the other way. Dead people can get away with a lot. The Grey Wardens probably weren't much different. Not that any of them would know, even the Commander had spent little time with other Grey Wardens.

Neria heard the sound of feet running down the road. Lots of feet, clad in heavy armor, judging from the clanking sounds. She went to the window and peered outside. Templars, four of them that she could see. They were chasing a mage, she guessed. Neria chewed her lip. She supposed it could be dangerous mage, someone deserving of capture and possibly death. Over the years she was becoming more convinced that templars were driven more by fanaticism, fueled by prejudice, and lust for power, than any true moral center.

She decided quickly, she cast a small spell. Something that would tweak their senses, perhaps divert them off the trail of the mage they were following. It worked. The templars stopped their pursuit and looked around. It appeared they were arguing. Finally one looked over at the inn and pointed. She stepped back from the window.

"Templars, incoming," she sat back down.

Anders felt his adrenaline surge. "How many?"

"Four," Neria said. "This is going to be painful." She was anticipating the worst. If they were in hot pursuit of a mage they'd be unlikely to stop and listen to reason while she explained they were Grey Wardens.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Anders looked at her, his brows lifted.

Neria smiled grimly. "Perhaps."

"Maybe you two should go upstairs. We can talk them down before they start in on you two," Sigrun suggested.

"Good idea," Neria said. "Come on, Anders." The two mages ran upstairs and waited in the hallway just out of sight. Neria peeked around the corner to watch.

The door to the inn burst open and the templars charged in, weapons drawn. Sigrun and the two guards were drinking and eating calmly. Sigrun put down her ale and looked up with a pleasant smile on her face.

"Hail, friends!" Sigrun greeted them cheerfully.

One templar unleashed a mana sucking spell at her. She giggled, unaffected by it. Another templar pushed that templar angrily. "Doofus! She's a dwarf. She isn't a mage."

Sigrun raised her cup to the templar. "Ser Doofus, and friends, would you care to join the Grey Wardens? We have plenty to share and you look thirsty." Sigrun knew Doofus wasn't his name, but she was a dwarf, she could get away with appearing ignorant of human insults.

One templar stepped forward. "Grey Wardens?"

Sigrun nodded, "Yes, we're headed to Denerim. King's summons, you know?" It wouldn't hurt to drop that in, she thought.

The templar that stepped forward looked at their table, noting two places vacated. "We are looking for an apostate and detected magic being cast."

"Oh, of course," Sigrun said, reasonably. "We have mages with us. Our commander in fact." She smiled. "The Hero of Ferelden, you might recall, is a mage."

"And where is your commander now?" the templar asked.

Sigrun raised her voice a little, hoping that Neria and Anders would hear her. "I believe she's upstairs seeing to a wounded Warden," she paused. "Darkspawn attack."

Neria did hear her. She shoved Anders toward his room. "Get in bed," she whispered, "try to look injured." He nodded and climbed in, pulling the covers to his chin. Neria sat alongside his bed, put a hand on his forehead when the templars came through the door. Anders turned over in bed, his back to the templars, thinking he recognized at least one of those templars.

Neria stood, trying to make herself tall. "Good sers, please," she said sternly, "I have a injured Warden here and he should not be disturbed." She stood and walked with the templars out of the room. She lowered her voice. "What can I do for you?"

The templars looked confused. "We are after a apostate and we detected magic being cast from this inn," the lead templar said. "We thought we might find him here."

"Of course," Neria said. "That would have been me trying to heal my recruit." She smiled, "I'm not much of a healer, I'm afraid."

The lead templar frowned. "You don't mind if we check your recruit?"

"I do indeed mind! I will not have him disturbed after what he has been through," Neria raised her voice, hoping Sigrun could hear her. She put her hands on her hips and glared warningly at the templar. He returned the glare.

"Warden-Commander?" Sigrun said, coming up their stairs with the two guards behind her.

"It's fine, Sigrun. The templars were just leaving."

The lead templar stared awhile longer at the mage and turned on his heel and clanked downstairs, the other three templars following him. They filed out of the inn and Neria watched them from a window. She felt Anders standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder. "I think I recognized a couple of those fellows. Good thing you got them to leave, I doubt they would have liked seeing me again."

Neria sighed. "I'm sorry, Anders. I shouldn't have done that. I was just hoping to divert them, for a little while, so the mage they were chasing could get away."

Anders nodded, "Maker speed him."

~O~O~O~

Knight-Commander Tavish paced as the templar explained how they had lost the apostate they had nearly caught just outside Amaranthine. _It figures the Warden-Commander had a role to play in that, _he thought. It couldn't be just coincidence that every time they went to deal justice to an apostate or maleficar that she would interfere somehow. He went again to the Grand Cleric with his concerns about the Grey Wardens. She agreed with him. It was time to address this problem.


	6. Chapter 6

The tower of Fort Drakon was a welcome sight, for a change. It meant relief from the incessant pain of riding a horse, although Neria did have to admit that as the trip progressed she was finally adjusting. Ever since the incident at the inn, Neria had refused Anders's offers to heal her pained behind. She simply suffered with grumpy stoicism. They arrived at the palace and someone took the horses to the stable. Anders held back Neria for a moment while everyone else went inside.

"Don't be stubborn, Neria. There's no reason for me not to heal you," Anders told her, his own face set stubbornly.

She half-frowned, "Oh fine, go ahead." She tensed herself, waiting for it. The problem was now she was starting to anticipate it and that was nearly as bad. Anders put his hand on her behind and healed her. Again it was tainted with that purplish aura. She bit her lip to keep herself from reacting. "Thank you," she said stiltedly and walked with much less pain.

They were shown to their rooms in the palace and given an opportunity to rest before they would see the King.

~O~O~O~

"Warden-Commander Neria Surana and Wardens Sigrun and Anders, Your Majesty," the majordomo announced their arrival and they were shown into the meeting hall. It was quite full with courtiers, advisers, and petitioners. The audience rose and applauded as the Grey Wardens walked forward. Or at least, most of the audience did, a rather sour looking woman in Chantry garb did not, and the contingent surrounding her also did not rise.

The three Wardens walked in and Alistair rose and took Neria's hands into his, before she could formally bow. She smiled warmly at him. He shook hands warmly with the other two Grey Wardens as well.

"Commander, it is good to see you survived the Darkspawn attacks," Alistair said. "We've heard a lot of rumors from Amaranthine and I thought it would be wise to hear a full accounting of what happened." Alistair seated the Wardens next to him on the dais.

Neria relayed the tale, with some prompting from Anders and Sigrun for details she forgot. She left out everything about the Architect. That issue would not be suitable for the general public, but she would tell Alistair privately. The audience was enraptured with the story. Alistair looked at Neria in horror as she told about her encounter with the larval darkspawn that nearly killed her. "I have Anders to thank for saving my life that night," she looked warmly at him. "Oh, and Oghren of course, he provided the booze that cleaned my wound." Alistair laughed at that.

She summarized the damages to the Vigil and the city and asked for resources and labor to help them rebuild. Alistair nodded and promised they would begin sending help immediately.

Arl Eamon rose in the audience and pledged to also send what assistance he could. Several other Arls and Banns pledged assistance. Neria graciously thanked them. One Bann rose to ask a question, "Warden-Commander, is the Darkspawn threat over now? Or will there be attacks in the future?"

Neria stood to answer. "Unfortunately, it isn't possible to know. We believe the Broodmother we slew was the impetus and organizing force behind the massive attack on Amaranthine and the Vigil. We need to remain as vigilant as ever. In fact, the initial attack on the Keep devastated the Grey Warden forces, we are going to need to make a concerted effort to recruit." Neria sat back down.

The woman in the Chantry garb rose and Neria heard Alistair say "Oh no," quietly.

"Warden-Commander, it seems the Grey Wardens have a penchant for recruiting maleficars and apostate mages, do you intend to continue that practice now that the Darkspawn threat has been quelled?" the woman asked.

Neria turned to Alistair. "Who is that?" she asked, quietly.

"The Grand Cleric, Mother Sweeney," Alistair whispered. He had a sour look on his face.

Neria took a deep breath and rose again. "Revered Mother, the Grey Wardens recruit based upon ability and have no restrictions on race or social standing. Defeating the Darkspawn is our mission and to that end, we make use of the tools that are available to us. As to having quelled the Darkspawn threat, we simply don't know if we have or even how long any peace will last."

Mother Sweeney's face grew red. "And do you intend to continue to attack and harass templars, and slaying them out of hand?" The audience looked shocked by the question. More than a few of the courtiers looked delighted to see a conflict erupt during an otherwise tedious day in court.

Neria drew a deep breath and shot a sharp look at Alistair. Alistair looked completely surprised by the question. She would have to say something. She stood, her anger was nearly palpable. "I have to answer your question with one of my own, Your Reverence. Does the Chantry intend to continue to interfere with the Grey Wardens and attack them unprovoked?" Those sitting near her could see Neria trembling with anger. Alistair pulled her back down to her chair.

Alistair rose. "I think we'll allow our Wardens to relax for awhile. They've had a long journey. I'm sure they'll be happy to answer additional questions at dinner tonight." Alistair bent to talk quietly to Neria. "We need to talk privately. I'll send someone." She nodded. As the three Wardens left the audience chamber, Neria nodded graciously to those she recognized, especially the people who offered assistance. Arl Eamon joined the trio as they left.

"Commander, we should talk," Eamon said.

"Do you want us to wait, Commander?" Anders asked.

"No. Go ahead without me. I will see you at dinner."

Arl Eamon, one of Alistair's most trusted advisers, escorted her out to the garden where they could talk in privacy. "Commander, you've made some powerful enemies in the Chantry."

Neria looked at Eamon, her eyebrow twitched. "So it would seem." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Is the source of the problem here, in Denerim?"

Eamon nodded, "The Revered Mother has never liked the Grey Wardens. Especially when Duncan recruited Alistair, that seemed to start the problem. She has also been behind a resurgence in distrust and suspicion of mages. Of course, Uldred's revolt did nothing but reinforce that. It seems the templars have splintered into two factions, one much more fanatical than the other. Unfortunately, the fanatical arm is based here in Denerim and is more powerful than the more moderate branch."

Neria's mouth tightened with concern. "Of course, moderates are lousy at gaining control. They're too busy being reasonable people."

Eamon chuckled, "Exactly."

"Is there any danger from the Chantry, for the Grey Wardens?" she asked.

Eamon shrugged. "I'm not sure how far they'll go. There have been whisper campaigns against the Wardens. Insinuations of blood magic and consorting with demons..."

"What? That's utter nonsense. We've been killing demons, not consorting with them."

"Of course, it is nonsense, and people are highly resistant to the insinuations being flung about the Hero of Ferelden, your status protects you. However, I wouldn't expect that to necessarily extend to your mage recruits."

"Does Alistair have no influence with the Chantry?" she asked.

Eamon waggled his hand. "You'd be surprised how little they listen to the government. The Chantry has its own military arm, has the devotion of most of the people of Ferelden, seems to have endless funds gathered as tithes from the devout. They take little advice from the crown. In fact, the Chantry expects to provide input into all the decisions the Crown makes."

She paced, trying not to let her anxiety erupt into a magical temper tantrum. "What is your advice, Eamon?"

Eamon looked truly regretful over what he was saying next. "You may need to capitulate and allow templars into the Keep."

Neria gasped. "Never! We have treaties, that have stood for centuries, allowing our independence."

Eamon shrugged. "I know, Neria, but if the Chantry decides to press on this matter, I don't think you could expect help from Denerim or any of the military forces in Ferelden. Siding against the Chantry would be political suicide."

Neria bit her lip. "What lengths would they go to, do you think?"

Eamon shook his head. "I don't know. Just keep in mind that they Grey Wardens are weak right now and the templars could marshal a formidable force, if they chose to do so."

"War against the Grey Wardens?"

"Let's hope not," Eamon said.

Neria bit her lip. "Eamon, your own son has to live under the oppression of the templars now. I know we'd all like to believe they're there to protect everyone from evil mages but I've seen all to often templars accusing innocent mages of being maleficars. Unlike the mages, their power is unchecked and their word is always taken over a mages."

Eamon sighed. "I know, Neria. Believe me, I think about this a lot. I just don't see any way to counteract the threat."

"Other than capitulating?" Neria said.

"Let's go in," Eamon said, not wanting to answer her question.

~O~O~O~

Neria went to her room and closed the door. Her anxiety was ratcheted to such a level that little arcs of energy snapped between her fingers. She needed help controlling her impulses. She thought perhaps Anders could calm her down. She went to his room and knocked on his door. He opened the door, his eyes went wide with alarm. The magic that was leaking out of her was a torrent. It seemed to come out of her in electrical impulses. Hairs were standing up on her head, her braid was unraveling, and energy was arcing between her fingers.

He pulled her in his room and closed the door. "Neria, you're going to summon a templar. You need to stop this."

"I can't," she said, her teeth tightly clenched.

Anders wrapped his arms around her, and she held onto him, her fingers digging into his arms. He seemed to draw the energy she was leaking into him, as if he could absorb it. She sobbed once and relaxed against him. The leaking stopped. He was glad, her arcing fingers were delivering painful shocks into his arm.

"What was that?" Anders asked, his head was swimming from the surge of power.

"I don't know," she said. "I was so angry, I felt like I was coming apart." She let go of him reluctantly and sat down. "I haven't lost control like that since I was ten years old."

Anders rubbed his face with his hands, "I absorbed all the magic you were leaking." He laughed wildly, feeling a high on the power that surged within him.

"How?" she asked.

Anders shrugged, "No idea. I might just start leaking magic myself if I don't get rid of some of this surplus." He thought for a moment. "Come here, maybe I can give it back."

She stood up and walked over to him. He wrapped his arms around her again. They waited a moment then something happened. A purple aura surrounded Neria, it pulsed red at the edges. She squirmed in his arms. At first Anders thought she was trying to get away, so he let go of her, but she didn't let go of him, in fact she was pushing against him. He looked into her face. _Maker! What did I do?_ She looked as if she were in the throes of ecstasy. Her eyes were shut, she threw her head back and her mouth formed an unuttered, "Oh". Her fingernails dug into him and she cried out. "Anders," she hissed, "Maker, yes!"

_Oh, Maker, what have I done? She is going to kill me, _he thought. He didn't know what to do. Untangle himself or kiss her? He shut off the magic he was leaking, rather regretfully. He thought he was a decent lover, but he'd never seen a woman respond like that. He was jealous of his own magic.

"Neria, oh Neria. I'm so sorry." He held her as she sagged against him. "I had no idea..."

"My legs..." She started to sink down as if her legs couldn't support her. Anders scooped her up and laid her on his bed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." he repeated, like a litany.

Finally she collected herself enough she could reach out and touch his lips with her finger. "Shush. It was an accident."

Anders felt that energy arc through him again, like those little bolts earlier, only this was infinitely more gentle and pleasurable. His voice got husky. "This however, is not." He bent over and kissed her. She kissed him back, there was no hesitation this time. Her hands gripped his hair and she pulled him closer and kissed him harder.

"No, Neria." He pulled away. "I'm sorry. Not like this. Not after... _that_." He wanted her but he couldn't know now if she was still reacting to the magic or whether she really did want him.

She closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure. "You're right, of course."

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Very thirsty," she said.

He got up and poured her a glass of water. He propped her up so she could drink. She drained the entire glass. She heaved a huge sigh. She wanted nothing more than to bury herself in his arms and go to sleep. But she had to talk to Anders about the Chantry and then wait for her summons to Alistair. Not to mention, this was still entirely inappropriate and her control and emotional distance was eroding. _Had eroded? _She wondered if she had any left. It was bad enough she was leaking magic like an untrained apprentice but then... _what the hell was that? _At least she was relaxed now.

"What had you so upset, Neria." Anders still had her propped against him, he smoothed her hair down.

"The Chantry, of course." She sighed and leaned into Anders. The contact seemed to ward off the anger. "Eamon thinks they're going to try to grab control over the Grey Wardens."

"No!" Anders said. "How?"

"Perhaps insisting on having templars present in the Vigil. Maybe denying us the Right of Conscription when it suits them." She was amazed at how calmly she could say this now.

"Effectively neutering us," Anders said.

"Yes, essentially."

"Surely the King wouldn't allow that?" he said.

"Eamon said acting against the Chantry with military force would be political suicide. The Grey Wardens are weak now in Ferelden, we couldn't defend against any sizable group of templars on our own."

Anders swore, "Those lyrium-addled bastards! Do they think the Grey Wardens elsewhere will allow this?"

Neria furrowed her brow, thinking. "I will send word to the other Wardens, maybe they can help. We could always leave Ferelden on our own. I think that might make the Chantry nervous. There's always Warden's Keep. Those tunnels are impassable without a map. Of course, that cuts us off from everything, including gathering new recruits." She smiled. "Perhaps things aren't as dire as I thought. We aren't backed into the corner yet."

She gave Anders a friendly hug. "This might sound strange, but thank you. I'm not sure what I would have done if you hadn't been here."

Anders leaned over and kissed her on the forehead in a way that couldn't possibly be mistaken for simply friendly. She looked up into his eyes then broke her gaze away.

"I'll see you at dinner," she said. She got up, hoping her legs would hold her now. They were fine. She went back to her room.

She splashed water onto her face and re-braided her little braid and combed her hair back into place. By the time she was through there was a knock at her door. The king's messenger asked her to follow him. They went to a large study where a fire was burning in a giant fireplace.

"Neria!" Alistair got up from his chair by the fire and hugged her. He dismissed the guards and servants in the room. "Sit. Make yourself at home." He poured them each a drink and handed it to her. "You look a little more relaxed tonight. Did you take a nap?"

"Yes, a nap." She blushed and hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Uh, yeah. A nap," he looked at her suspiciously. "I recognize that blush. Who is it, the mage?" He enjoyed needling her, she was as easily embarrassed as he was.

"It's complicated," she said, not wanting to discuss a relationship she didn't even understand and wasn't sure actually even existed.

"It always is with you, Neria," he sighed.

"What's that mean?" she asked, bristling a little.

He raised his hands in surrender. "Don't melt my face!" He laughed. "You left a string of broken hearts across Ferelden, you know?"

She shook her head. "Oh nonsense, Alistair."

Alistair smiled, sensing he had pushed her far enough. "Speaking of which, one of those broken hearts is here in Denerim. Well, two if you count mine." That got her attention. She turned a quizzical look at Alistair. "Zevran, remember him?"

She turned pale. "He's in Denerim?"

He nodded noticing her reaction. "Yes, he's been doing some work for me for a few months."

"You? I never thought you'd use his services," she said.

"Well, not as an assassin, but he makes a really good spy too. Anyway, I wanted to tell you before you ran into him, just so you would know."

She nodded. _Well, this will be weird, _she thought.

"I take it you spoke to Eamon?" Alistair asked.

"Yes." she stood up and walked back and forth in front of the fire. "Alistair, this can't happen. I won't allow the Chantry to try to take over the Grey Wardens."

Alistair nodded, "I figured you would say that."

She stopped pacing and stared at him, "Would you let them do it?"

He spread his hands. "How could I stop them? I can't use the my military to do it, they would rebel. There isn't a human military force in Ferelden that would stand against the Chantry."

She smiled at him. "Human."

"Hm?"

"You said human. You're right. Well, except for the Grey Wardens. But could they stand against the Dalish and Dwarves? I'm not exactly inexperienced at raising armies." The more she thought about it, the better she felt. "Alistair, I'm not exactly powerless." The notion made her feel giddy.

Alistair looked at her with surprise. "Maker, Neria. That would plunge the entire country into war. Please tell me you wouldn't do this."

She laughed, "No, I wouldn't do that. But we don't need to tell the Chantry that do we?" She straightened. "Before I discuss this further with you, I need to know one thing."

Alistair straightened and looked at her curiously, "Of course."

She leaned close to him, her hands on the arms of his chair. "King Alistair, are you a Grey Warden King, or a Chantry King?"

He chuckled, and chucked her on the chin. "You even have to ask? First I'm Ferelden's king, after that, I remain a Grey Warden. You of all people know how much I frustrate the Chantry."

She nodded. "True. That's why I like you." She ruffled his hair, like she used to do.

"Hey!" he grabbed her hand, "I'm the king, you can't do that!"

"Can so! It's in the treaty," Neria teased him, laughing. "I've missed you, Alistair. Everything got far too serious." She sighed and sat back down.

"I missed you too, Neria. You should have stayed in Denerim."

"Right. Me in the city where they breed templars. Besides, I had to do some '_righteous Grey Wardening'." _She laughed, remembering that insolent templar outside the Circle Tower.

Alistair laughed, recalling that incident. "I haven't laughed this much in ages," he admitted. "Now back to the Chantry, what are you planning?"

"I have a few options. One is, the Grey Wardens can leave Ferelden if Ferelden refuses to honor its treaty."

Alistair sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, that would probably get a lot of people upset, including myself. What else?"

"We could go to Warden's Keep if the templars actually decided to assault us. But I don't know what good it would do. We'd be cut off from everyone and couldn't recruit, couldn't fulfill our obligations. All we could do is stay there and pout."

"Yeah, I don't see that as being useful," he said.

"I could ask for help from Orlais, Weisshaupt and Antiva. Perhaps even the Orlesian Chantry would intervene with the Ferelden Chantry. I will most likely do this although I don't how much time we have before the Chantry tries something. Surely they're going to be expecting us to strengthen ourselves and if they're going to strike at us, they'll do it very soon."

Alistair nodded. "I agree."

She had one more plan, one she thought could be the most potently dangerous of them all, but very good if it worked. She just didn't know if she should tell Alistair. She folded her fingers together and chewed her knuckle, trying to decide.

"Tell me," Alistair told her.

"If things looked dire, like nothing else would work, I could cut off their lyrium supplies," she looked at Alistair awaiting his reaction.

"Maker!" he swore, "You could do it too." He stood up and this time he paced in front of the fire. "Harrowmont would do it for us, for you."

"Or you," she reminded him. "If something happens to me, you have to do it. Get word to Harrowmont to stop the lyrium shipments. I'll make plans for that."

Alistair looked worried. "Neria, be careful."

"I will."

"Is there anything I can do for you here, Neria?" he asked her.

"Yes! I need a dressmaker to modify my robes so I can ride in them." She smiled brightly.

"As you wish, I'll send one to you tomorrow. Oh yes, the Grey Wardens have horses now. How's that working out?"

"Painfully. We don't exactly know how to ride properly."

"Oh, I can send someone to train your Wardens to ride. And while you're here why don't you take some lessons?"

She nodded. "If there's time, sure."

Alistair offered Neria a hand. "Let's go to dinner."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Note: **__Thanks for the reviews! They help keep me inspired. Now we come to the part of the story that rips me in two... two lovely men and I swear I love them both equally, if I had to choose between them, I don't think I could do it. Could you?  
_

~O~O~O~

Alistair seated Neria next to him at the table on the dais at dinner. Eamon was seated on her other side. Unfortunately the Revered Mother was also seated at the dais, but she was at the end of the table. Neria wasn't familiar with the protocol of such things but she thought it probably irritated the woman to be so far from the center of power, and Neria so close. If it irritated the Revered Mother, it pleased her.

Neria wasn't pleased at sitting on the dais, even if it was meant to show she was an honored guest and friend of the King's. She wanted to sit with Anders and Sigrun, she felt comfortable with them. They were sitting at a table with Teagan and other nobles that had been friendly to the Grey Wardens during the Blight. There was no sign of Zevran. She was grateful for that. She wasn't sure what her reaction would be on seeing him and she was already far too stressed with everything else happening and she didn't want to risk getting as agitated as she had earlier.

She still couldn't believe how badly her control was unraveling. She wished she could talk to Irving or Wynne and ask them the dozens of questions she had about the strange interactions of magic she and Anders had been experiencing. For the first time in years she almost longed for the Tower: the familiarity, the smell of the dusty, old tomes, the peace exuded by the Tranquil and the lack of responsibility she had had while there.

After dinner people mingled and chatted. She left the dais and joined her fellow Wardens. They were surrounded by well-wishers and people with questions about the Blight or the darkspawn attacks in Amaranthine. Someone kept refilling her wine glass whenever it was getting close to empty, so, by the end of the evening, she was quite tipsy. She told Anders and Sigrun to stay and enjoy themselves. She went back to her room while she could still walk on her own.

She walked into her room, it was pitch black inside. She fumbled around until she found a lamp and she lit it with a little spark off her fingers. There were logs in the fireplace, she ignited those with a minuscule fireball. The room was infused with a cheery glow. She turned to her armoire and fished out a shift to sleep in. She pulled off her mage robe, unwrapped her breast band and pulled off her stockings then slid into her shift. She poured herself a glass of water, she was going to be dehydrated from the alcohol, she knew. She turned to walk to her bed. There was a dark form lying on her bed, propped up on one elbow watching her intently. She dropped her water glass and it shattered on the hard stone floor.

"Ah, that brought back pleasant memories," the shadow spoke. He got up from the bed and strode over to Neria.

"Zevran!" Neria said, unable to think of anything better to say.

"At your service, my dear Grey Warden." He bowed to her. "Watch the glass," he said, noticing her bare feet. "Allow me," he picked her up and carried her to her bed, so she wouldn't have to hazard the glass. He set her down on the side of her bed.

"Um, thank you. However, couldn't you just use the door and, you know, knock, next time?" She was flustered.

"I could, but your King wants to keep my presence a secret, so I'm reduced to sneaking about." He smiled at her. "Besides, sneaking up on you was always so rewarding."

She sighed, wishing she hadn't had so much to drink. "It is... good to see you, Zev." She stood up and hugged him. It was good to see him, despite everything that had happened, she still considered him a friend. Zevran hugged her back, his hands wrapped tightly around her waist. He hummed in his throat, enjoy the feeling of her pressing against him with just the thin shift covering her and the familiarity of her scent. He bent his head down to smell her hair. It stirred so many memories in him. He let her go abruptly, and sat on the side of her bed.

"So what brings you back to Denerim, Zev?" she asked, sitting beside him.

"I think Alistair told you, I'm working for him now. Just doing a little spy work. He pays well."

"I thought you would return to Antiva and be running the Crows by now," she said.

"I did go back, briefly. But I didn't enjoy my work any longer. I think you quite ruined me, my dear."

"Really?" she smiled. "Did you develop an aversion to assassination?"

He grunted, hating to admit anything. "This suits me better now." He smiled at her, "What about you? Sounds like you are living in interesting circumstances, but you almost always are."

She grimaced. "I could use a break, really. Right now the Chantry wants to take over the Grey Wardens." She put her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands. "I think I prefer the darkspawn, actually. No one minds when you kill them. People get fussy when you kill templars."

Zevran nodded, "I overheard your conversation with the King."

Neria gasped, "You what?"

Zevran grinned, "I'm a spy. It's my job."

"He told you to spy on us?"

"No, but he didn't say not to either," Zevran laughed. "This palace is riddled with secret passageways and secret rooms." He pushed aside a tapestry and pressed on the wall behind it and a door popped open. "If you want to say anything private, don't do it in the palace. Although, as far as I know, I'm the only one likely to be listening."

"So what do you think about my problem with the Chantry, Zev?" she asked.

He frowned, "I will be blunt. You are in danger, my dear. Alistair has agreed to let me watch over you while you're here, I just have to be discreet about it." He stretched out his hand to her. "Come with me, I will show you a safe place in case you need to hide." He showed her how to operate the secret door in her room then showed her a secret room and how to get in. The room had his things in it. "I'm staying here when I'm at the palace."

"Thanks, Zev. This makes me feel better but I suppose we should go back to Amaranthine as soon as possible."

"No," he said. "I wouldn't do that. If you go back to Amaranthine then their next move may be to come after you with a large force of templars. However, if you stay here there is likely to be a lot of political posturing and such. Things you can easily manage, at least more easily than confronting an army of templars. It could buy you time to get help from outside Ferelden."

"Good point," she said. "I need to get some messages out. What's the best way to make sure they get to where they need to be?"

"Let me handle that. I have contacts and they'll never be traced to you."

She nodded. "Thanks. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help."

"Hm, there are other ways to express gratitude," he suggested, his brow raising suggestively.

"Yes there are," she admitted, "A lovely, potted plant, perhaps?" She smiled mischievously.

He laughed at her and led her back to her room. "You'd better get some sleep, dear. You look exhausted."

"You don't know the half of it," she said.

A sly smile crossed Zevran's face, "I wouldn't be so sure about that, my friend."

Neria looked suspiciously at him. "Just how much spying have you been doing?"

Zevran just smiled enigmatically and walked her back to her bedroom. He used the broken glass as an excuse to pick her up again and put her on her bed. He picked up her hand and kissed it on the inside of the wrist and watched her blush.

"Good night, Neria," he said. He latched her door and disappeared behind the tapestry.

She burrowed under the covers, just her nose, eyes and the top of her head, peeking out. She emptied her head of everything that had happened that day and soon was dreaming.

~O~O~O~

The next day Neria wrote letters to the Grey Wardens in Antiva, Orlais and Weisshaupt asking for help with the Chantry problem. She also wrote a message to be delivered to Nathanial in Amaranthine. She sealed them and gave them to Zevran. A little later the seamstress knocked at her door and she and seamstress figured out a design that would work for riding. Neria was so impressed with the design she thought she might adopt it even when not riding. She sent the seamstress to Anders to help him design something appropriate.

She was about to go off in search of food when someone knocked at her door. It was a servant asking the Wardens to join Alistair for breakfast. She collected Anders and Sigrun and the servant led them to a private dining room. Zevran was waiting for them there, although Alistair wasn't there yet.

"You look better this morning, Neria," Zevran kissed her forehead. Anders watched the interaction, it made the skin on his nape prickle with irritation. _Better than what, when? _he wondered when Neria had seen Zevran. As far as he knew, she went back to her bedroom after the dinner.

"Thanks, I slept well," she hugged him. She introduced Zevran to Anders and Sigrun. "This man helped me kill the archdemon," she explained. "Sigrun, is a rogue we found in the Deep Roads. She is one of the Legion of the Dead." She thought Zevran and Sigrun would hit it off. "Anders was my tutor at the Circle Tower. I recruited him right out from under a pack of rabid templars."

Zevran shook hands with her Sigrun, smiling at her with his usual charm. When he clasped hands with Anders, he gripped his hand a little harder than necessary and looked him directly in the eyes. His smile didn't extend to his eyes. Anders gripped back.

Alistair joined them and insisted they treat him as a fellow Warden, not the King. He asked Neria for any update she had on the Chantry issue. Neria took the opportunity to brief Sigrun on everything she missed the day before. "We're going to stay in Denerim for awhile. Zevran pointed out that if we keep the Chantry busy here we can give the Wardens outside Ferelden more chance to respond. So my job, and Alistair's, is to slow the Chantry down by making a political morass. If things go our way, it might end here without further unpleasantness. Otherwise we have some other options including leaving Ferelden, or perhaps even shutting off lyrium supplies to the templars."

"Whoa, Neria!" Anders stopped her. "That will also shut off lyrium to the mages too."

"Yes, true, but most mages are not addicted, like the templars are. I figure a week or two without lyrium and they will be willing to listen to reason." She shrugged. "It's a last resort. I'm not sure I like the idea of armed templars in the throes of lyrium withdrawal running around."

Neria took a slice of smoked salmon and ate it with an apple slice. "Yum, you eat well here, Alistair."

"Too well," Zevran quipped, he looked at Alistair. "You're getting chubby."

Neria giggled. She poked Alistair in the side with a finger, searching for flab, all she found was impressively hard muscles.

"Hey! Cut that out!" He squirmed away.

"Sorry, Zev, I think you're wrong. I think Ferelden's King is still in good shape, despite his luxurious life."

Sigrun shook her head and looked at Anders. "Hard to believe these people defeated a Blight, isn't it?" Anders laughed at her comment.

"We spent everyday together for nearly two years, it wasn't all grim and serious all the time," Neria said.

"No, not grim at all, my dear. I remember having a lot of fun, in camp." Zevran looked at Neria with a lascivious smile. She ignored him.

Sigrun laughed. "Believe it or not, we had a lot of fun in the Legion too. '_Party like the dead_', they used to say."

"The Grey Wardens are that way too, or were before the Blight," Alistair said.

"We will be again, if we can just catch a break," Neria said. "Speaking of which, Alistair, what's on the agenda today?"

Alistair sighed, "The Revered Mother has requested an audience with me today. Other than that, nothing of significance that involves the Grey Wardens."

"Good, then I want to show Sigrun and Anders the sights. Do you want to join us, Zev?" Neria asked.

"I can join you, after I take care of a few matters. I'll be attending the meeting with the Revered Mother, in a manner of speaking. I'll catch up to you."

The group finished eating and Alistair left. Zevran rose to leave.

"Could you stay a moment longer, Zev?" Neria asked.

Zevran sat back down, looking interested. _Neria keeping secrets from Alistair?_

"I thought it best we leave Alistair out of this discussion," Neria said. "There's a little job, I thought you and Sigrun could handle for us. Anders and I are still on the Chantry's leash as long as they have our phylacteries. They can track us down anywhere, no matter where we run, should we need to disappear. Could you possibly try to find out where they store them?"

Zevran nodded and looked at Sigrun. "That sounds like an interesting challenge. We can go check it out this evening."

"Just promise me you'll be careful. If it looks too difficult, don't bother, I can't risk either of you getting caught."

"We will be, Commander," Sigrun promised.

"Well, let me show you two around Denerim. Anders, you're going to love the _Wonders of Thedas_," Neria said.

Zevran snickered, "You just like those Chasind artifacts." He waved to the Wardens and left by a secret door in the wall.

Neria took her two recruits to show them the sights, and smells, of Denerim.

~O~O~O~

Zevran listened closely to the conversation the Revered Mother was having with Alistair. She made a number of accusations, most of them he'd already heard. The new one was that the Grey Wardens were collaborating with blood mages and had assisted them in escaping templars.

"Just what is it you want from the Grey Wardens, Revered Mother." Alistair's voice was remarkably patient, Zevran thought. "Are you asking for the Warden-Commander to be put on trial for her supposed crimes?"

"Mages are not tried, King Alistair, the Chantry is responsible for their punishment. I want Neria replaced as Warden-Commander. Putting a mage in charge of a powerful military force and an Arling is... dangerous! Imagine if the woman is corrupted by a demon?"

"And if she steps aside, will that satisfy you?" Alistair asked.

"Templars must be allowed to supervise Grey Warden mages," she added.

Zevran had to hold in his laughter. _Good luck with that._

"Revered Mother, I don't think the Grey Wardens will agree to that. Our treaty with them specifically allows them to operate independently of the government and the Chantry. We can't dictate to them who they appoint to lead the Wardens in Ferelden."

"Your Majesty, the treaty is centuries old, it should be updated or set aside."

"Mother Sweeney," he said, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice, "we've just been through a Blight and another darkspawn invasion in Amaranthine. If anything this should prove that the treaty is just as relevant today as it was when it was forged."

"And we've been through a mage revolt recently too, King Alistair, if you've forgotten."

"I hadn't forgotten, Revered Mother. Do _you_ remember who is was the straightened out that mess? It wasn't the templars, if I recall," he said.

"Grey Wardens, yes. But since then Surana has been acting against the Chantry at every opportunity. We simply cannot look the other way while this continues."

Alistair grunted. "All right, here is what I will do. We will have another meeting and you can present your demands to the Grey Wardens. Maybe they will surprise me and accept your demands, or perhaps we can come to a compromise."

"Very well, Your Majesty, but please realize this matter must be resolved quickly. I urge you to act with haste."

"Why is urgency required?" he asked.

"She grows ever bolder in her attacks on the Chantry. It simply must be dealt with."

Alistair grunted. "We will contact you, Revered Mother."

Zevran heard Alistair get up and move to the back of the room, where he was hidden behind the wall. "Bitch," Alistair muttered.

~O~O~O~

Anders and Neria spent quite some time poking about the _Wonders of Thedas_, the magic store in Denerim. Sigrun got bored quickly and left to talk to Gorim.

"What on earth..." Anders wondered as he picked up a smooth, jade columnar object. "Is this what I think it is?" he asked Neria.

Neria blushed. "A Chasind artifact, I'm told."

"Hm, I always wanted to study ancient civilizations." He put the artifact down wondering where all it had been over the centuries.

Neria found a butterfly brooch made out of silver and gold wire, that glowed with a subtle blue light. When she breathed on it or touched it, it's wings would gently fold and unfold. Anders watched her admiring it, but she set it down and wandered off elsewhere. She rarely bought herself things. The Arling had been struggling ever since the darkspawn problems had surfaced and she had used much of her own money to keep things afloat. He waited until she was lost from sight, amidst the shelves of books, and he purchased the brooch. The proprietor put it into a finely carved box and Anders hid it in his pocket.

_How do I give it to her, _he wondered. _How do you give your commanding officer a present_? He just wanted to make her feel good, even if only for a few moments. She had been through so much with the Blight and the _Mother_, and now the Chantry. Yes, true, he had to admit there was more to his motives than that. He wanted her, but it involved more than getting her out of her small clothes. He thought about all the other times he had given gifts for exactly that purpose. Neria wasn't a blushing virgin, she would certainly question his motives. Hell, now he was questioning his motives!

~O~O~O~

_**Note: **__I know Lyrium addiction is something that was under consideration as a game mechanic for mages, but it didn't get added. For story purposes, I'm assuming that templars are given much higher doses than mages ordinarily use, and mages generally don't get addicted._


	8. Chapter 8

_**Note: **_I truly appreciate the reviews! It kicks the muse into overdrive.

~O~O~O~O~

Zevran thought he could do a little background work to make finding the phylacteries easier. First stop was to see Cesar. He was well connected to polite society and the underworld, one of the few people able to earn trust in both spheres. He provided the wealthy with solutions to problems, such as unwanted pregnancies or unwanted spouses, and he had a reputation for discretion too.

Zevran rented one of the private rooms at the Gnawed Noble tavern and sent a boy with a message for Cesar. He bought a bottle of the inn's best Antivan wine and waited for the merchant.

"Zevran. It's been awhile," Cesar said, when he entered.

"Cesar, amico, please have a seat." Zevran handed him the bottle of unopened wine, a courtesy between people who dealt death through poison. Cesar inspected the bottle and opened it, he poured for them.

_Cautious bastard, _Zevran thought. "Cent'anni," he said, raising his wine glass to the merchant.

"Cent'anni," Cesar replied and drank. "Excellent wine, mi amico. What can I do for you, Zevran?"

"I'm looking for information about the chantry, where they store certain items. Do you know of anyone that would have that sort of information?"

Cesar looked like he was wracking his brain, trying to remember. "It could be... it has been so long."

Zevran laughed, he knew the game to well. "Name your price, Cesar. We're both professionals, we don't need to play these games."

Cesar smiled. "Twenty sovereigns makes my memory work well."

Zevran swore. "You're a thief, Cesar, but my employer is generous. Here is your money." He counted out the merchant's steep price and pushed it over to him. "Next time, you buy the wine."

Cesar grinned. "You might find that a templar named Harrith will be receptive to cooperating. He is inordinately fond of lyrium. You're in luck, he has been reassigned to Denerim recently."

Zevran smiled, "Thank you, Cesar. A pleasure, as always." He nodded politely and left the merchant with the bottle of wine.

Templar Harrith was not hard to find, he was patrolling the alienage. Zevran noted his location and jotted a quick note, inviting the templar to meet him at a tavern just outside of the alienage. He gave the note to a boy to deliver. He didn't have to wait long, the templar arrived and the bartender directed him to a backroom.

Zevran got up when the templar entered. "Harrith, I presume?"

The templar nodded. "And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Smith, Joe Smith."

"What can I do for you, Joe?" the templar asked.

"Perhaps we can help each other," Zevran suggested. "Lyrium or gold, I can provide it. I'm just looking for some information."

Harrith shrugged, "What exactly do you want to know?"

"Phylacteries. Where are they stored?"

Harrith looked surprised. "Phylacteries?"

Zevran grimaced, "Yes, you know, those vials of blood you use to track down mages."

"Well, of course I know what they are!" Harrith shift uncomfortably, "Telling you this could mean my life if the Chantry found out."

"I'll make it worth your while, good Ser," Zevran jingled his heavy purse.

The templar weakened and Zevran purchased the information for a steep price. Alistair was going to be walloped with a large bill to cover his expenses.

"One more thing, my friend," Zevran said, "Where does the Chantry store lyrium for the templars? Is there a large supply somewhere?"

Harrith looked surprised. "Yes. But you can't possibly get to it. It is in a warehouse locked with special magic that only allows certain people access. Even the templars can't go in there, for obvious reasons. The warehouse is enchanted such that magic won't work inside of it."

Zevran mused. "So it can only be unlocked by certain people?"

Harrith nodded. "Yes. The warehouse is in the palace district. There are templars on guard outside the building, but other than that, it looks like a normal warehouse."

Zevran's mind was working quickly. "When the dwarves deliver the lyrium, does it go directly to this warehouse?"

Harrith nodded, "Yes, I pulled guard duty there from time to time. It seemed like most weeks there would be a wagon full of lyrium being delivered."

Zevran counted out another large stack of coins and pushed them over to Harrith. "How long would that lyrium last the templars and mages?"

Harrith started to look concerned with the direction of the questioning. "I have no idea."

Zevran pulled back the stack of coins. "Tsk, tsk, my friend, it's just information."

The templar looked greedily at the coins. "Well, I'd guess a couple months at least."

Zevran smiled and pushed the stack of coins to the man.

Harrith licked his lips nervously but took the coins.

"Thank you, Ser. We may yet have the chance to work together. I'll be sending you an additional gift. One you might want to use sparingly as it could become a rare commodity in the future." Zevran nodded politely to the templar and left.

Harrith wondered just exactly what he had wrought.

~O~O~O~O~

The seamstress was a fast worker, she wanted Neria to come for a fitting that afternoon. She would have one of her new robes ready by the next day. Neria was rather excited at the prospect of a new robe. This one was black, tightly fitted in the torso and it buttoned down to her narrow waist. From there it was cut away in the front and split in the back. She would wear it over trousers or riding breeches. She thought it gave her a slightly sinister look, or would if she were a completely different person. If the Chantry was going to make her out to be an evil mage, she might as well try to look the part.

That night Alistair had a private dinner and invited the Grey Wardens, Eamon and Zevran. The discussed the developments of the day.

"The Revered Mother has agreed to a meeting," Alistair explained, "However, she is agitating for it to happen sooner, rather than later. I might be able to postpone it for a couple of weeks but I doubt we can delay that much longer."

Neria chewed her lip, "I'm sure it'll take at least six weeks to get a response back from Orlais. Longer if they send Wardens." She frowned. "I don't even know that they will respond."

Alistair cleared his throat. "Neria, you should know. One of the things the Revered Mother is asking for is for you to step aside as the Warden-Commander and have a non-mage run the Wardens in Ferelden."

Neria sighed. "If I accede to her demands, any of them, then we've lost our independence. I don't think the Wardens in other countries would be very happy if I did that. It would set a terrible precedent. It would show weakness."

Alistair nodded. "Of course."

Zevran leaned over a whispered to Neria. "I'll come up to your room later, we need to chat about what we discussed this morning." Neria nodded.

After dinner, Sigrun and Zevran left together to scout for the phylacteries.

Neria and Anders walked back to their room. "Do you play cards, Anders?" Neria asked.

"No, I never did learn how to play."

"Do you want to learn? I know a couple of games."

Anders smiled and nodded. Neria put a bottle of brandy on the table with two glasses and she began to teach Anders how to play. He picked it up quickly and soon he was holding his own at the games. They were both fiercely competitive and tried deception, misdirection, bluffing and just out-and-out lying to each other. Neria found bluffing to be difficult because she would laugh every time Anders narrowed his eyes and glared at her, trying to discern her intention. She had picked up a thing or two from Isabela and eventually she was tipsy enough to try cheating. Mage robes had lovely long, loose sleeves, useful for hiding extra cards. She was having quite a run of luck until Anders finally caught her. His mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"You're... Are you cheating?" he asked her.

"Cheating?" she squeaked indignantly. "You're just trying to get out of paying me the five-hundred, million sovereigns you bet me."

"Let me see your hand," he demanded.

"No! It's private."

Anders glared at her and snatched the cards out of her hand. "Ha! I knew it. You have an extra card."

She stood up and put her hands on her hips preparing to protest her innocence. A few cards fell out of her sleeve. "Oops. How'd those get there?" she said innocently.

Anders laughed. "Cheater! He grabbed her arms and patted down her sleeves, finding a few more cards tucked away. Neria, you're a horrible cheater!"

She laughed. "I know, I know. Okay fine, you don't have to pay me the the five-hundred million." She poured herself another drink. "It took you long enough to catch me." She took a large gulp of brandy. "Yee-ouch!" she said as it burned its way down her throat.

"Okay, I don't have the five-hundred million anyway. But I have something else..." he smiled at her, "Close your eyes." She closed her eyes. She weaved a little, her balance not so good with all she had imbibed. She felt Anders plucking at the fabric on her robe. "Okay, open them."

She opened her eyes and looked at her robe. Anders had pinned the butterfly brooch to her that she had been admiring in the magic shop. Her mouth fell open. "You got the butterfly? I... It's beautiful, Anders. Thank you."

"I saw you looking at it and I thought you should have it."

Neria blew gently on the butterfly and it's wings folded and unfolded. Her eyes turned up to Anders. She wanted to kiss him, but she couldn't. It wouldn't be appropriate. The usual arguments played through her head. _Fuck it!_

"Excuse me?" Anders said.

"Did I say that out-loud?" Neria thought she must be drunker than she realized.

"You sure did," Anders looked at her, wondering what prompted the out-burst. "I mean, for a second there I thought you were going to kiss me, then you said _'fuck it'_".

"Ooooh," she stumbled over to the side of the bed and sat heavily. "You see, it's very complexicated."

Anders sat down next to her. "Are you drunk, Neria?" He thought she was, she was making up words.

"Perhaps, I may have imbued a bit too much."

"Imbibed? I can cure that you know."

She laughed. "Purplies again? And me in this state?"

"I promise I won't take advantage, Neria."

"See, there's the complex part because I want you to," her brow furrowed and she looked at him intently. _Fuck it! _She closed the distance between them. Her hand went to his jaw and she put her lips on his.

Anders sighed. _A promise is a promise, _he thought, as much as he regretted it, he would do the honorable thing. There it was again, that protectiveness that Neria inspired. Since when did he do the honorable thing, especially when it came to willing women? This was the second time now, he wasn't sure he could do this a third time.

He cast a sleep spell on her and she slumped down onto the bed. He rearranged her so she'd be comfortable when she awoke. Then he healed her. Interestingly, when she was unconscious, the purple tinge didn't appear. It made him more sure that he wasn't the one solely responsible for his magic going awry. He decided to let her sleep rather than drop the spell. It would wear off in a few hours. He took off her shoes and covered her with a blanket. He watched her sleeping the deep, magical sleep and kissed her on the forehead and left.

~O~O~O~O~

Zevran and Sigrun broke into the chantry. There was a templar guarding the staircase to the basement where the phylacteries were stored. Sigrun went out of the chantry and pounded on the locked front door, it brought the templar away from the staircase and Zevran slipped down the stairs. The door at the bottom of the stairs was locked, but he was able to pick the lock. He heard Sigrun join him. Apparently the guard didn't return to the staircase.

Down the stairs was a hallway. It was barely lit by a few dim oil lamps mounted on the wall. There were four cells along the hallway. _Interesting, the chantry has a dungeon? _Zevran thought. _These people are darker than I suspected. _

Sigrun jogged him with her elbow, there was a templar at the end of the hall. He was walking towards them. She pulled him into the shadows in the back of one the cells. The templar walked past them, reached the stairs and turned, going back the way he came. When he got to the end of the hall, he turned to the left and disappeared from sight. There was another hall intersecting the end of this one.

The pair sneaked down the hallway silently, listening careful for the metallic footsteps of the templar. They got to the end of the hall and peered in the direction the templar went, it was another long hallway, but ahead of them was a locked door. Sigrun went to work on the door while Zevran watched. They heard the clunking of metallic boots, but he wasn't yet visible. The door unlocked just in time and the rogues went in quickly and quietly closed the door, re-locking it, just in case. The room was very dark. Zevran rummaged through his bag until he found what he needed. He poured a powder onto the floor of the room and using a flint ignited the power. Then he took a torch and lit it from the small fire. Sigrun nodded approvingly.

They looked around the room. It was definitely a storage room. There were scores of boxes piled on top of more boxes. Sigrun looked inside a box, it was filled with glass vials. There must be hundreds of them here. Each vial had a name imprinted on it. How would they find the Commander's? She finally saw that each box was labeled with what looked like names. _Alphonse_ - _Astridix. _They followed the boxes around the room until they found the box that contained the commander's vial. Zevran picked it up and handed it to Sigrun. It was a rather plain looking glass vial with her name on the outside. It had what looked like a wax plug in the top.

Zevran watched Sigrun, wondering what she was doing. She pulled the plug off the top and handed the vial back to Zevran to hold. She rummaged around in her pack for something, an empty bottle and a wine skin. She gestured to Zevran to pour the contents into the empty bottle she was holding. He did. Then she squeezed the contents of the wine skin into the vial. She had a huge grin on her face. "Pig's blood", she whispered. Zevran nearly laughed out loud. He re-corked the vial and put it back in the box. Then they repeated the process for Anders vial.

"How do we get out of here?" Sigrun whispered.

Zevran pulled out a pair of black kerchiefs from his pack. He put his on and helped Sigrun tie hers on. It would help protect their identities and, if necessary, protect them somewhat from gas. They might not make it out of the chantry quite as cleanly as they got in. He dug through his pack again and found two sleeping gas bombs. He handed one to Sigrun and mimed sleep. She nodded in understanding.

They stopped at the door and listened. They heard clinking, as if someone wearing heavy armor were shifting from foot to foot right outside. They waited for quite awhile to see if he would make another circuit of the dungeon, but he seemed intent on staying. After awhile the templar started whistling, not long after that he started singing a bawdy drinking song. Zevran was losing patience. He quietly unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough he could pass his hand through. He pulled the plug out of the gas bomb and put it on the floor next to the guard. He quietly closed the door and pulled Sigrun back so she wouldn't breathe the fumes.

Before long the singing stopped and they heard the guard yawn loudly. He leaned against the door and they could hear his armor sliding down the door, as he collapsed. When it got completely quiet, they opened the door, shifted the guard out of the way, propped him against the door again, so it would look like he had just fallen asleep. Zevran picked up the empty gas bomb.

The pair went up the stairs and listened at the door. It was silent. They stayed for several minutes. It continued to be silent. It could be good, or it could be bad, but either way they'd never know until they opened the door. Sigrun opened the door slowly, looking into the darkened chantry. She didn't see the guard. She pulled the door open wider and they headed to the side door they had picked earlier.

"Halt!" they heard a deep voice call and heard a weapon slid out of its sheath. The templar had been laying down in the pew and had risen to see the pair slinking to the side door. "Intruders!" he shouted. He lashed out with a smite which blew Zevran off his feet, Sigrun was unaffected. Sigrun realized she was still holding a sleeping gas bomb, so she lobbed it so that it would fall in the path the templar was taking to get to them. She unsheathed her daggers, preparing to fight the templar. He ran through the gas cloud, hopefully breathing enough to stop him eventually. He wielded an enormous great sword, but he was very slow. She was able to stay out of the path of his swings. Zevran finally got to his feet and he flanked the templar. He struck him on the temple with the hilt of his dagger and the templar sunk to the floor.

"Run!" Zevran hissed. The two rogues heard more templars opening the front door to the chantry. They dashed out the side door and ran through the streets until they thought they had lost them. Zevran pulled the mask off his face, breathing hard. "Well, that was fun!" he said. Sigrun nodded and took her mask off too. They walked more slowly, trying to catch their breath.

"Too bad we couldn't quite get out of there without notice," she said.

"Eh, it wasn't bad. They didn't get a close look. If we're lucky they will think we were just there to steal some religious relics or something." Zevran guided Sigrun through the streets until they came to an entrance to the aqueduct. "Back entrance to the palace," he told her. They climbed down a ladder and walked along the aqueduct until they found a staircase. Zevran nodded to the guard posted at the stairway and he tipped his head in acknowledgment. He guided her up the stairs and through the maze of secret passages.

"Your room, I think?" he pressed on a latch and a door popped open.

"Huh! Well, that's useful to know about," Sigrun examined the secret door. "Good night, Zevran!"

Zevran headed to Neria's room. It was late, she would probably be asleep. But that was all right, waking her up could be fun. He wasn't quite sure what he could expect from her at the moment. She had broken up with him when he had tried to give her the earring. He understood why, even though she hadn't explained it. He had had a terrible case of cold feet. He couldn't tell her how he really felt about her, he wasn't even sure he knew. She had given him every opportunity to do it but in the end, he just couldn't.

He had been philosophical about it at first. He told himself it didn't matter. He went back to Antiva to resume his old life where everything he used to do felt hollow to him. What purpose did assassination serve? He was killing spoiled, cruel people for other spoiled, cruel people. He found his sexual conquests were empty now too. It was a dance that bored him and soon irritated him. He was left with a deep dissatisfaction and even the most challenging jobs left him feeling flat.

That's why he came back to Ferelden. He had last felt like he had a purpose, belonged to something, when he was here. Working for Alistair had helped fill the void but he hadn't felt truly back to normal until Neria came and they had fallen back into their old repartee. Of course, there wasn't the same closeness they'd had before, she was keeping her emotional distance from him. He didn't blame her. He had blown his opportunity with her. If he wanted her back he would have to start over, this time he would have to let her past the barriers he had always erected around himself. He thought he could do it this time.

But then he happened to be listening in when she had gone to the mage's room. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened, it sounded like they were talking about magic then he heard what sounded like Neria in ecstasy. Then talk about an accident. It was confusing to him. Was there something going on between Neria and the mage? He decided he didn't care. He would try to win her back regardless.

~O~O~O~O~

**Note: **_Someday I think I should write about Cesar, he's cool! _

_Cent'anni is an Italian toast that means 100 years, wishing someone a long life.  
_


	9. Chapter 9

Zevran tapped quietly on the secret door leading to Neria's room. There was no response. He opened the door and walked out from behind the tapestry. Neria was asleep on her bed, still dressed. There was heavy smell of alcohol in the room. He saw the empty brandy bottle and two glasses on the table, and cards scattered around the room. _Someone was partying_, he thought, smiling. Neria had never been able to handle her liqueur.

He went to the side of her bed and looked at her, she was deeply asleep. He hated to wake her but he knew he should. "Neria," he said quietly, touching her cheek. "Wake up, dear." She didn't even stir. He shook her, "Neria, wake up." No response. He was becoming alarmed. She was breathing fine, looked perfectly normal, he just couldn't seem to wake her. He slapped her cheeks lightly, pinched her... nothing. He decided to talk to the other mage.

Anders awoke to someone leaning over his bed, shaking him by the shoulder. "Maker!" he sat up in bed preparing to cast a spell at the intruder. "Zevran? How did you..."

Zevran interrupted him. "Anders, there's something wrong with Neria. Can you take a look at her?"

"What?" Anders asked.

"Just come look," Zevran insisted. He guided the half-asleep mage through the passageway to Neria's room.

"I couldn't wake her up," Zevran explained. "She's in some sort of coma."

"She's fine. It's a sleep spell," Anders said. "It'll wear off soon-ish."

"A sleep spell? And you cast it?" Zevran asked, his suspicions raised. "Why?"

Anders rubbed his face with his hands. _How the hell was he going to explain this? _"She drank a bit too much, I thought it best she sleep it off."

Zevran narrowed his eyes at the mage. "Wynne used to cure Oghren of inebriation when he became too annoying. Why didn't you just cure it?"

Anders shrugged, "Forgot, I guess. She's fine. Do you want me to wake her?"

Zevran could tell Anders was lying. If Neria hadn't been fully clothed and looking unharmed he would have punched him. "No. I'll wait until she comes around."

Anders didn't trust Zevran. Sure, Neria seemed to know him from the Blight, but who was this guy? He seemed far too smooth an operator. Anders knew the kind of guy, Zevran was. _Er, like me, _he thought. _Like I used to be. _"I'll stay too," Anders said, he noted a flash of anger on Zevran's face.

"That's not necessary," Zevran said, coldly. He sat down in a chair and fished his whetstone out of his backpack, having a sudden desire to sharpen his daggers.

Anders said nothing and sat down as well. He idly summoned tiny bolts of arcane energy and tossed them into the fireplace. Time passes slowly when you're in the company of someone who can barely disguise their hostility towards you, but Anders kept up the rhythmic summoning of bolts. _Zzzzzt, Zot! _He fired them. The sounds were hypnotic and he was fighting to stay awake.

Neria heaved a great sigh and rolled over. A strange pair of noises woke her. A blade being sharpened, she was familiar with that sound. The other... she looked around and saw Anders heaving tiny bolts into the fireplace. She sat up and rubbed her face sleepily.

Zevran and Anders heard her stir and they both got up and walked over to her. Neria noticed the tension immediately. "What? Is something wrong?" She got up looking alarmed.

"Are you okay, Neria?" Zevran asked.

"I'm fine, why?" She looked from Zevran to Anders.

"You were in some sort of coma, I couldn't wake you up. So Anders admitted he put you under a sleep spell of some sort because you were drunk." Zevran looked at the mage with distrust.

Neria smiled. "It's okay. I'm fine. I don't even have a headache. Anders is an excellent healer."

Zevran looked at Anders, he had been lying. He had healed her. _So why did he lie?_

Neria got up and went to the little sitting area. "Sit," she invited them. "So, Zevran, what did you and Sigrun find? Did you find where the phylacteries are stored?"

Zevran smiled and nodded. "Not only that but we took care of your problem."

Neria's mouth dropped open, "You destroyed our phylacteries?" A big grin was spreading over her face.

"Well, no, not exactly. We just replaced their contents with pig's blood. Sigrun's idea."

Neria leapt to her feet and threw her arms around Zevran, laughing. "That's brilliant!" She jumped up and down she was so excited. "Anders, we're free!" She ran to him and threw her arms around him too, in a tight squeeze. "Let's go wake up Sigrun." She ran down the hall and pounded on Sigrun's door. Sigrun answered eventually, wrapped in a robe, looking half-asleep. Neria grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her room. She danced around with her. "You did it! You really did it!" Sigrun hugged her back.

"Of course we did, Commander. Hey, if you're going to wake me up for a party you should have done it before you drank all the booze!" Sigrun ran out of the room and returned with a full bottle of brandy.

Anders turned to Zevran, "Thanks, I owe you big for that." He stuck out his hand, trying to tamp down his hostility. Zevran grudgingly shook hands with the mage.

Sigrun returned with the brandy and poured some for each of them. Neria couldn't believe she was drinking for the second time in an evening but she swallowed down the brandy in a big gulp and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Sigrun and Zevran related the details of the operation and the four conspirators drank heavily, laughing at the story. The party wound down shortly before dawn. Everyone had passed out in Neria's room. Neria was unconscious in a chair. Sigrun had passed out on the floor. Zevran had had the presence of mind to lay down on the bed. Anders was in another chair.

That was how Alistair found them when he opened the door to Neria's room late in the morning. He'd sent a servant to summon her to a meeting but she hadn't responded. So he came himself. The room smelled like a brewery. "Maker!" he looked around at the unconscious people.

Neria stirred, stiff from sleeping all night in a chair. "Ooooh," she sat up and put her head in her hands. "Alistair?" she squinted in his direction.

"Neria, did you know you have a roomful of unconscious people?"

Her lids at half-mast, she looked around the room and laughed. "Ow, that hurt."

"We need to talk. I just had a visit from the Revered Mother. She was rather upset, to say the least."

"Oh for pity's sake Alistair, not right now. I'm not well."

"Yes, now. This is important," he insisted.

"Fine, let me get my shoes." She looked all over for her shoes, finally found them on the canopy of her bed. "How'd they get up there?" she wondered.

She stumbled out of the room after Alistair wondering when he had become such a sadistic bastard. He led her to a small sitting room, there was a tray of food waiting and a pot of tea. She poured herself some tea, but didn't think she could eat anything just yet.

"So, what's so important I can't sleep off my hangover?" Neria asked.

"Someone broke into the chantry last night and the Revered Mother is blaming you," Alistair said.

Neria shrugged. "And I am probably responsible for the two-headed goat being born too and the milk going sour, right?" She got up and paced, "Blame the witch is an old, old game, Alistair."

"She said they tried to get into the room with the phylacteries, but were scared away before they could destroy any." Alistair looked at her levelly. "I don't know if there's anyone in Denerim ballsy enough to do that other than you."

Neria said nothing, just took another sip of tea.

Alistair watched her drink.

"Nothing was out of place? Perhaps the thief was looking for relics," Neria suggested.

Alistair sighed. "Neria were you connected to this?"

Neria's head throbbed. She had wanted to keep Alistair out of this, but she wouldn't lie to him. "Don't ask questions you might not want the answer to, Alistair."

"Dammit, Neria!" Alistair pounded the arm on his chair. "I'm trying to protect you from the Chantry and you do this? You keep tweaking their noses, what am I supposed to do when they retaliate?"

"Alistair, calm down. They have no proof. Nothing is out-of-order. They can't identify anyone, it went relatively well. They're grasping at straws trying to put the blame of this on me."

"But you did it? I suppose that's why you all were in such a state this morning?" Alistair looked disgusted.

"We did a bit of celebrating, true."

"But they said you didn't succeed," he said.

Neria smiled slyly. "Oh, but we did. There are two vials of pig's blood amongst all those hapless vials of mage blood. Anders and I mixed a cocktail with our phylactery's former contents. It was pretty gross but by then we were very drunk." Although right now remembering it was making her stomach roil.

"Neria, why didn't you tell me you were going to do this?" Alistair asked.

"I'm sorry, Alistair, but I knew you would object and I didn't want you to be in a position where you might have to lie to the Chantry. Although it seems we ended up there anyway."

"So now what do I do when they ask me about this again?" Alistair looked furious.

"Lie to them," Neria said simply. "Come on, you can't tell me you haven't managed to master the art of deception after all this time on the throne?"

He shot her a furious look, "I'm trying to be an honorable King, Neria. Is that something you've forgotten about already?"

Neria pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to push back the headache. "You're also a Grey Warden and you know the words you spoke at my joining _'Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant.' _That is where we stand, Alistair, in the shadows. We're Grey Wardens, not White Wardens. Duncan and Riordan made it very clear; we do what must be done, not what is _nice_ or what is _honorable_ or what makes the Maker happy. Securing our independence from these zealots _must _be done and if that means telling a lie or two then so be it."

Alistair got up and paced. "You're putting me into a precarious position. If I side with you against the Chantry, how does that make me look if this all blows up? What if they actually test your vials and find it leads them to a slaughterhouse somewhere?"

Neria pondered. Alistair had a point. If he were caught in the middle of this, it could damage him. This could easily escalate. On the other hand, Alistair was being a tool and that irritated her.

"I suppose you're right," Neria admitted. "You shouldn't get caught in the middle of this. However, whatever you can do from the sidelines would be appreciated by the Grey Wardens, like putting this meeting off for as long as possible. I'll move to the Grey Warden compound and you can distance yourself from us and whatever happens next."

Alistair sighed. "Neria, I'm sorry. I'll do everything I can, just be careful." He hugged her but he noticed she was stiff and tense.

Neria returned to her room. She hoped Anders was awake, she desperately needed healing. She opened the door and found Sigrun was gone, but Anders and Zevran were still in place. She went over to Anders and shook him gently. His eyes creaked open and he looked at her without recognition registering for a moment. "Oh, Neria. Urgh..." he gripped his belly and she watched his fingers glow blue as he cured his own hangover before he could manage to vomit.

He put his hands on Neria and cured her hangover. She bit her lip against the usual effect she suffered from his healing spells. "Better heal Zevran," she told him. He was about to protest but remembered that he owed the fellow a rather large debt of gratitude. He went to the bed and prepared to sit down.

"Wait, Anders," she said. "Waking him up suddenly is a bad idea." She went over to the side of the bed. "Zev," she whispered into his ear, "wake up."

He groaned and his eyes opened to those wide gray eyes he had seen so many mornings. "Amora," he said, forgetting himself for a moment.

"Anders can take care of that hangover." She got up and he sat down and put his hand on the elf's forehead and cured his hangover.

"Grazie," Zevran said. He yawned and swung his feet off the bed.

"We're moving to the Grey Warden compound today," she announced. "Get packed Anders, and let Sigrun know too, please." Neria looked angry. "I'll explain later." Anders nodded and left. Zevran stayed, watching Neria.

She went to her own armoire and threw it open, tossing all her robes and clothes onto her bed, grumbling under her breath.

"Neria, what has you so upset this morning?" Zevran asked.

"Alistair is an utterly, spineless, tool of the Chantry." She threw her small clothes so hard they rained over Zevran.

"You just figured that out?" Zevran quipped, he picked up a pair of her underwear and twirled them around a finger. "I told you that ages ago."

Neria sighed. "Well, the only problem is, he pretty much has to be to stay in power. The Chantry is blaming me for the break-in last night and he was upset over that."

Zevran wrinkled his brow. "How could they possibly connect that to you?"

"They don't have to. I'm a convenient scapegoat. That they're actually right this time is just coincidence."

"Did you confess to Alistair?" he asked.

"Well, yes. I didn't want to lie to him."

"Ugh, Neria. You should know better. The man can't handle darker necessities."

Neria smiled. "Darker necessities, I like that."

"So why are you leaving?"

"Alistair is worried he'll be dragged down with us if this Chantry problem erupts. So I suggested we leave and put distance between us. He agreed."

"I want to come with you," he said.

Neria smiled. "You do? But you work for Alistair."

"I did work for Alistair. I'd rather work for you."

"I have to tell you, we're absolutely broke. I can barely scrape enough money together to pay the staff and the Wardens. It's probably going to be like that for a year or more, until the Vigil is fixed up again."

"Just feed me and give me a bed to sleep in and I'll be happy. At least I won't be sleeping on the ground."

Neria smiled, tears came to her eyes. "Zev, thanks. I can't tell you how much this means." She hugged him. Zevran let his eyes go shut and he inhaled her scent. His memory danced backwards through time and he didn't want to let her go.

~O~O~O~

**Note: **_Alistair has a fine line to walk. I can definitely imagine Neria being impatient with him because he walks a political tightrope. Alistair never really understood what it meant to be a Grey Warden, IMHO. _


	10. Chapter 10

_**Note**__: Thanks for kicking the muse, she's a lazy tart sometimes._

~o~o~o~o~

The compound had been vacant for quite some time. Neria hired a pair of servants to start cleaning it up. She found a cook to run the kitchen. It wasn't exactly big, there was a small training yard, a small dormitory that could sleep up to eight in small, but private rooms, an office and quarters for an officer. There was one room for bathing and a bath in the officer quarters, so they were going to have to take turns. It wasn't luxurious but it beat camping. In the afternoon the seamstress delivered the first of the new robes she was working on for the mages. Neria hoped Alistair would let her finish the sewing. Neria sent the guards who had escorted them from Amaranthine back to the Vigil. It would make the compound less crowded and they weren't really needed.

Neria went to work organizing and cleaning up the small office when Zevran came in.

"Neria, I didn't get a chance to tell you something else I discovered," he told her about the lyrium warehouse. "I'd like to watch the warehouse and get some idea of what happens when a delivery is made."

Neria's face lit up. "Good idea. Let's set up a rotation so we can keep watch on it until the next shipment comes."

"I'll go find a suitable place to watch," he said. "Oh, one more thing. Can you give me a case of lyrium potions? I had to bribe a templar and I'd like to reward him."

Neria nodded. "Of course," she said, but she was getting worried, money was getting extremely tight and they had nothing coming in, being so far from Amaranthine. She would be damned if she would ask Alistair for money, besides, he had already pledged to send resources to Amaranthine to help rebuild. Lyrium powder was not cheap.

Zevran found Sigrun and they went to the palace district to scout out suitable locations to watch the lyrium warehouse. It was a large building and there were six templars posted around it. Two at each door. There were some windows but they were all barred and very small. There was a large, double door, like the sort you'd find on a barn.

"Sigrun," Zevran said, "you know anything about lyrium?"

"A little, why?" she said.

"Is it flammable?"

"Oh, hm, the dust is somewhat, lyrium sand even more so, but I'm not sure about potions. Probably not, or at least not much." Sigrun grinned broadly. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

Zevran nodded. A big grin on his face.

Sigrun giggled. "You know much about explosives?"

Zevran shook his head. "Not much, I have made a few bombs in my day but I'm not sure I could blow up an entire building. What do you know?"

Sigrun shrugged. "Probably about the same as you, but I happen to know someone... He's insane, but he could do it. He is at the Vigil, not too far away."

"Insanity might be necessary for what I'm thinking." Zevran sketched out his plan to Sigrun. She nodded, approvingly.

They found an empty building with a good view of the lyrium warehouse. Zevran left Sigrun to take the first watch and he returned to the Grey Warden compound and reported what they found to Neria. They would set up a schedule to watch the warehouse during all the daylight hours. Everyone would have to go disguised as commoners and if they were questioned, they would say they were sent to clean up the empty building for it's new owner.

"Neria, could you get Dworkin here?" Zevran asked.

Neria looked up from her work on writing a letter to Amaranthine, she looked startled. "Dworkin? The crazy - no make it insane - bomb making dwarf?" She looked at Zevran suspiciously. "What are you planning?"

Zevran grinned at her. "A solution, my dear. A lovely, loud solution."

Neria set down her pen and listened intently to Zevran. His idea made her nervous. "Not unless we absolutely have to, Zev. What you're suggesting would be effective, yes, but it could backfire on us too. If things should reach the point where we have no other choice then I would do it."

Zevran nodded, understanding her concern. Although he was in love with his plan, he realized the consequences could be... unpredictable.

~O~O~O~

Sigrun found Neria sitting at her desk in her office staring off into space. She looked concerned and weary. She hadn't looked happy ever since they left the palace. Sigrun had always been able to get her to laugh. Sigrun could get almost anyone to laugh. It was her talent.

"Commander, we need a night out," Sigrun said, "just you and me."

Neria looked up startled, she hadn't noticed Sigrun coming into her office. "Oh!" She mused on the proposal. She hadn't really spent much time alone with Sigrun, it might be a good opportunity to get to know her better. "Well, I suppose that would be fun. What do you suggest?"

Sigrun smiled slyly. "Just leave it up to me. Wear something pretty. Let's go in one hour."

Neria sat for awhile longer pondering her financial concerns. She finally had to admit they were going to run out of money very soon. She thought about her options; going to Varel and asking for money, but it was sorely needed in Amaranthine. She could ask Alistair, perhaps Eamon, but her pride just wouldn't allow it. They were going to have to earn some money, somehow. During the Blight it had been easier. The Grey Wardens were outlaws and the country was in chaos, they could do less than savory things and make a little money. Now she had her own reputation to be concerned with, and to some extent her own reputation was tied to Alistair's, so she had to be, if not completely scrupulous, at least very, very careful.

She got up and stretched. _Something pretty? _She got out her new mage robe and put it on over a pair of black leather breeches. _Not pretty, but dramatic. _It was cut low, in a square neckline and a leather corset both provided some protection in a fight and also lifted her bosom fetchingly. She fastened on the butterfly brooch that Anders had given her. A gentle touch and the wings opened and closed delicately. She felt slightly guilty when she thought about Anders. She knew she was giving him mixed signals. He had been a gentleman and hadn't taken advantage of her when she was vulnerable. That had surprised her. She always thought he was something of an opportunist. She pushed the thoughts away, there was too much going on to think this through clearly just yet.

She met Sigrun in the common area of the compound. Anders was there reading by the fire. Sigrun was wearing some fancy black leather armor. She looked dangerous and rather sexy. It wasn't a look she had ever seen Sigrun wear. She was quite impressed with her sense of style. Anders looked at the women, his mouth dropped open.

"Maker!" Anders said, his voice catching in his throat. Neria looked like a vision, or at least a newly discovered fantasy of womanhood. Small but dangerous, a little intimidating, yet stunning in the black. _And she's wearing the butterfly! _His heart contracted a little harder than normal with a happy thump. "What are you two up to tonight?" he asked, clearing his throat and trying to clear his mind as well.

"The Commander and I are going out," Sigrun said, laughing at their reactions. "Just us women." She took Neria's arm and pulled her out of the compound and they walked through the dark streets of Denerim.

"Still not telling me where we are going?" Neria asked as they walked through Denerim.

"Nope! You'll figure it out sooner or later."

"You know Denerim is kind of a rough town at night," Neria warned her.

Sigrun smiled, "I'm betting we can handle almost anything." She did have her daggers with her although Neria had left her staff behind. Nothing could ruin a night out like looking too much like a mage.

Of course, thinking such things summons them and they turned a corner in the northern part of the city and a group of rough looking men were loitering on the side of the street. The two women ignored them and were greeted with wolf whistles and lewd comments. As Neria passed by one grabbed her arm and swung her around. Sigrun unsheathed her daggers.

The man backed up a step or two. "Two tiny beauties such as yourselves shouldn't be walking around in Denerim unescorted. Me friends and I just want to see you safely to your destination, don't we lads?" The man barked with a loud laugh and the _lads _circled the two women. "The _Crimson Oars_ at your service, my proud beauties."

"Oh, now I recognize you!" Neria said, remembering an encounter with them once before. They were loud and annoying but she didn't think they were particularly dangerous.

"Recognize me, do ye?" The man scratched his short red beard. "Ye got me at a disadvantage, lass."

"Gnawed Noble. I had to throw you out. I'm afraid we might have been a little rough." Neria shrugged apologetically. She didn't know why she was toying with the man.

The man sneered. "Ye not be saying that a wee lass like yourself beat the Crimson Oars? My ears are playing tricks on me, laddies." He laughed again.

"Memory not so good or are you just stupid?" Neria asked. "I suppose you might have taken a few blows to the head." Neria looked at Sigrun and laughed. Sigrun wondered what had gotten into Neria. She certainly seemed to be enjoying provoking the man.

"That witty tongue of yours has better things to do than tickle your ivories, I wager," the man pushed her against a friend. "Hold 'er arms, mate, I'm flyin' me Jolly Roger."

Neria looked rather harmless so the bulk of the pack went to deal with Sigrun. "Oh dear," Neria said, "those with a short memory are doomed to repeat history, I'm afraid." She gathered her power into a tiny ball, somewhere inside her and let it burst from her in a concussive blast. Most of the men were stunned, unable to move as their brain circuitry was temporarily short-circuited. Sigrun laughed. "That's some powerful gas you got, Commander. Might want to cut back on the beans."

Neria snorted at Sigrun's comment. "Get to work, Sigrun, these guys are going to start waking ... oops". Sigrun dispatched a couple when they began to stir and Neria followed it up with a sleep spell. Now they were out again. "Leave the leader alive," Neria said. "I'd like to see if he remembers me next time." Not quite satisfied with her work, she sent the sleeping men a terrifying dream and they began to fight one another or quiver in horror of their waking nightmares.

"Aw, Commander, this one is kind of cute," she said as she plunged her dagger into the side of another Crimson Oar. "Kind of hate to kill 'im."

"Oh, I don't know. His complexion is bad."

"Yeah, I didn't look at his face. He doesn't smell very good either," Sigrun finished dispatching him and went onto the next. "Poor hygiene is a capital offense in Denerim." She cackled at her joke.

"Hurry Sigrun, they're going to wake up soon." There was perhaps half a minute before the remaining four would shrug off her enchantments.

"I'm good, Commander, but even that's asking a lot."

"Oh fine, I'll help. It's just the templars get jittery when I start with the lightning. It's almost a magnet." Energy arced out of her hands and into the nearest man. He jerked and twitched and Sigrun ended his life with a dagger thrust.

"Did you notice my lightning cauterizes their wounds so they don't bleed so much?" Neria shared her scholarly observation with Sigrun.

"Yeah, and I'm grateful, otherwise we'd have to go back and wash up and change clothes."

They dispatched two more. Sigrun got the leader into a joint lock just as he was waking. She pulled back hard on his hair so he had to stare Neria in the face. Neria smiled benevolently at the Crimson Oars leader.

"Take a good look at that pretty elf, my friend," Sigrun said, her voice dripping with menace. "You don't want to fuck with her or any Grey Warden for that matter."

"Empty his pockets, Sigrun."

Sigrun slammed the pommel of her dagger into his head and he fell to the ground unconscious.

The women went to each corpse and searched them for anything of value. They counted up what they had found and thought they might have collected twelve sovereigns worth of money and items.

"Every bit helps," Neria said.

Sigrun stood up and stretched. "Well, that was invigorating! All this time sitting on our arses and I thought we might have lost our edge."

Neria shook her head and laughed. "We still got it."

They resumed their walk towards the destination that Sigrun refused to divulge.

"You're taking me to the Pearl?" Neria finally figured it out.

"Yup," Sigrun said.

"Are you thinking that I'm going to... Oh Sigrun!" Neria stopped walking.

Sigrun laughed, "No, that's not why. I just thought you might enjoy a place with a little more atmosphere than the Gnawed Noble. That place is so stuffy." She clasped Neria's arm in her own and pulled her along.

Neria insisted on sitting in a dimly lit corner where no one could see her clearly.

"Coward," Sigrun said. She ordered drinks for them both, a strong but fruity tasting one for Neria and an ale for herself.

Sigrun was curious about things that had happened during the Blight. Not only the details of the war but also her personal relationships. It took a bit of alcohol before Neria could openly discuss it, but Sigrun was good at extracting drunken confessions. She managed to coax all the lurid details out about her relationship with King Alistair and Zevran, even her brief obsession with Bann Teagan.

"So what happened with you and Zevran, Commander?" Sigrun asked, handing her another drink. Neria was slumped down in her chair, her eyes looking somewhat glazed. Her gestures were big and dramatic.

"He gave me a gift!" Neria said, waving her hand dramatically. "A stinking gift! I'm all, oh, this is so sweet he's going to tell me he cares about me. And what does he do?"

"What?" Sigrun was willing to supply all the prompts to get the dirt.

"He says it's to show gratitude." Neria made a raspberry sound in disgust. "Gratitude for helping him escape from the Crows. Bastard." She poked Sigrun in the chest for emphasis. "Gratitude," she grumbled. "Ha!" She picked up her drink and sloshed some on the table. Her mood switched suddenly from anger to sympathy. "But he's really a nice guy, helping us out with our problem like he is. And he's doing it for nothing, I can't afford to pay him anything."

"Did you stop to think that maybe he's helping you out because he really does care about you?" Sigrun asked.

"Pfft, that's over with. We both know that." Neria gestured with her drink and slopped more of it out.

"You can't hold your drink," Sigrun observed.

"What do you mean? I've had three of these and I'm fine."

"No, I mean you literally can't hold your drink. You keep sloshing it around. Maybe you should set it down."

"Oops. Okay. I see your point."

Suddenly a scuffle broke out and a pair of men started swinging at each other. A shove and one man was knocked into someone else and that just made things escalate. It wasn't long and it spread to the part of the bar Neria and Sigrun were in. They managed to rescue their drinks just as someone was knocked down on their table and pummeled. But the two women went on talking like nothing was happening, they just raised their voices to be heard.

"So, what about Anders?" Sigrun pried. She had to lean back in her chair to avoid a fist crashing into the man pinned down on their table.

Neria suddenly realized she was divulging rather a lot of personal information to Sigrun. _Oh hell, she's my sister Grey Warden, if I can't talk to her who can I talk to? _She sighed. "Well, that would be entirely inappropriate to get involved with him. Ugh!" She said the last when it sounded a bone was breaking. "Sigrun, shouldn't we do something about this fight?"

Sigrun shrugged. "Not our problem, as I see it." She laughed. "I told you this place has more atmosphere." But she shoved the two men off their table and they went to punching each other elsewhere. "But back to the topic, I've noticed there seems to be kind of connection between you and Anders. Duck!"

Neria ducked under the table and a chair crashed into the wall right where her head had been. Sigrun joined her under the table. Both women still had their drinks. "It's probably best we stay down for a bit," Sigrun said. Neria nodded.

"Anders?" Sigrun prompted.

Neria sighed. "It's just it seems wrong. Fraternization is looked down on, complicates lots of things."

Sigrun shook her head. "You know, we had rules about it in the Legion of Dead but no one paid attention to them. Our lives were already too grim and brutal to abide by a bunch of rules some deshyrs made up. I was always struck how similar the Grey Wardens and Legion are, except you don't admit you're dead until you die."

Neria took a big swallow of her fruity, yet extremely strong drink. Maybe it was the alcohol but Sigrun was making sense.

"We get what, thirty years tops? Probably much less since some darkspawn is likely to get us before then. I'd say the Grey Wardens probably try to pack as much living into their allotted time as they can," Sigrun said.

Neria and Sigrun chatted under the table until the guards came and broke up the fight and arrested the instigators. They crawled out from under the table and resumed their places.

"Wow! Look at that elf over there," Sigrun pointed out a elf headed their way. He was attractive, she had to admit. Judging by the tightness of his clothes, Neria guessed he worked here.

"Ladies, may I join you?" The elf bowed to the women. Sigrun looked hypnotized. She nodded and patted the chair next to her. Neria watched Sigrun flirt outrageously with the handsome elf. It wasn't long before the elf was tracing Sigrun's tattoos with his finger. Neria was beginning to feel like a third-wheel. She told Sigrun to enjoy herself and decided to head back to the compound.

Maybe it was stupid to walk back alone after dark in Denerim, somewhat drunk, but she guess she could handle almost anything Denerim could throw at her, except perhaps templars. She was trying to be on-guard against any other unpleasantness like the Crimson Oars, so when the cat started yowling on the fence right next to her, she reflexively cast her stun spell. The poor cat was frozen mid-yowl. When her nerves settled she giggled and decided she needed to relax. She apologized to the cat and continued on, turning at the next corner and running straight into the plate-clad chest of a templar. It surprised her as much as the cat did but she collected herself before casting out of reflex this time.

"Pardon me, Ser," she apologized. It irritated her to be polite but she didn't want any trouble in her condition.

"Hold it." An armored hand grabbed her by the upper arm. "Casting magic, were you?"

"It was nothing, I was just startled by a cat," Neria tried to pull away from the templar's grasp but his hold was firm.

"Because... let me guess, you have been drinking." He glared at her and pulled her closer to smell her breath. "Phew!"

"So what?" Neria was beginning to get angry. Just like a big shem of a templar to abuse an elf mage.

"Sooooo..." the templar drew out the word, clearly enjoying his power, "casting while under the influence is a violation of Denerim ordinances and highly disapproved of by the Chantry."

"Oh please, you're making this stuff up!" She drew herself up and glared directly into his eyes.

"Demonic possession of drunk mages is a very serious problem, young lady. I think a night or two in custody should set you straight." He started walking and pulling her along with him.

"You have no jurisdiction over me, templar. I'm a Grey Warden."

"Oh, a Grey Warden are you?" He laughed. "Do you have any idea how often I hear that?"

Neria knew this would hurt but she gathered herself for a spell, knowing full well the templar would hit her with something before she could complete it. Still, she might be able to beat him before he could counter a second spell, so that's the one that would really count. She gathered herself for a stun... the templar did strike but it wasn't with an anti-magic spell, it was with his fist. He punched her in the temple and she reeled backwards and felt her consciousness peeling away from her.


	11. Chapter 11

Neria awoke to the worst headache she had ever had. She gripped her head in her hands and tried to heal herself. Nothing happened. Her magic was gone? What was she without magic?_ Nothing, _she thought. _I have no other skills._ She was, of course, selling herself short. She was an excellent leader, although she had no idea how she did it, people followed her. She had fairly good organizational skills. But those skills were pretty stinking useless when you where suffering from both a hangover and - her memories started returning - a bashing to the head. Her stomach heaved and she nearly vomited, instead she moaned loudly and curled into a tight ball in the corner and shut her eyes, tears of pain gathering in the corners.

"Awake are we then?"

She heard a door creak open and heavy booted steps walking in her direction. She just squeezed herself into a ball more tightly. She felt a gauntlet-clad hand grab her hair. It pulled her up until she was sitting. Her stomach heaved again. _Dear Andraste, don't let me vomit on a templar. _She knew that would not end well. She gathered her will and focused, like she did when she was casting magic, and willed her stomach to settle. It worked, somehow. She let her eyes open. Or rather, her eye opened, the other one was swollen nearly shut. The templar she had run into was stooped next to her. She was in a cell. There was a straw pallet on the floor. A foul-smelling slop bucket in the corner, that wasn't helping her nausea much.

"I can't imagine why, but the Revered Mother wants to see you." The templar nudged her with a boot. "Get up."

Neria stood on wobbly legs. The templar fastened his big hand around her arm, adding another series of bruises to her already bruised arm. He pulled her out of the cell and they walked up a flight of stairs he pushed her through a door into... a chantry. Not that Neria had been inside, she avoided chantries whenever possible, but she had seen this chantry from the outside many times. _So, there is a dungeon in the chantry? _She was a little shocked. That was a rather dark discovery about people who seemed to think they were filled with the light of the Maker, or some such nonsense.

The chantry was rather dark, although it appeared that the sun might be rising. Neria tried to remember which direction the sun rose in, she thought it was probably dawn, not sunset.

The templar yanked her around by the arm and half-dragged her into a large, luxuriously appointed room. Neria immediately recognized the woman seated at the desk. The hairs on the back of her neck raised at the sight of the Grand Cleric. The woman didn't acknowledge them, she just kept writing. The templar waited patiently to be acknowledged. Long minutes passed. Neria knew she was playing mind games and that helped her remain calm. She used the time to focus her will on keeping her stomach contents in her stomach. Finally Mother Sweeney got up from her chair and walked over to the templar and Neria.

The templar shoved Neria roughly. "Apostates kneel before the Revered Cleric when they hear her judgment," he barked at her. Neria locked her knees; she would never kneel. The templar struck her in the back of her knees with his leg and she fell to her knees. He put his hand on her shoulder to keep her from rising.

Neria looked up into the face of the Revered Mother her eyes flashing. "You have no right," she hissed.

Mother Sweeney had a pleased look on her face. "Oh, I disagree, Warden. Where mages are concerned the Chantry has every right, I don't care what your treaty says."

Neria laughed harshly, "And you imagine that Alistair or the Landsmeet is going to allow you to interfere with the Grey Wardens, after we've defeated the Blight and another incursion in the North? You're delusional."

The templar struck Neria in the back with his knee. "You will show respect!"

Mother Sweeney seemed to take sadistic pleasure to seeing the elf mage being abused by the templar. A small smile twisted her lips. "The Landsmeet will do as the Chantry wishes and King Alistair is biddable, with a little pressure."

Neria couldn't disagree with her assessment of Alistair. She wasn't ready to show her hand yet, so she wouldn't argue with the Revered Mother. "So what is the point of all this if you're so certain you can get what you want?"

"There's still the matter of the crimes you and Anders have committed. Killing templars, trying to steal your phylacteries, harboring maleficars and others. Death is an appropriate punishment for any of them but under the circumstances, I'm willing to be lenient in return for your cooperation."

Neria rolled her eyes. "Go on," she said.

"You resign as Warden-Commander. Allow Chantry supervision of Warden mages and accept a Revered Mother as an on-staff adviser to the Wardens."

Neria snorted. "No," she said simply. "I don't think the Wardens in other countries would thank me if I allowed the Chantry to control the Ferelden Wardens."

The Revered Mother shook her head. "Neria, you don't really have any options here. We could easily dispatch a force of templars to Amaranthine and take over. You're fortress is weak right now, you're understaffed. It would be a simple matter to seize control."

"The Wardens wouldn't stand for it. You could slaughter them down to a man and then what good is that? Or if you don't kill them, they'll simply leave the country. Then what will you do when the next major darkspawn invasion happens or another Blight happens? Do you want your legacy to be the woman who served up Ferelden to the darkspawn by driving out the Grey Wardens?"

The Revered Mother looked intently at Neria. She hadn't thought about the Grey Wardens leaving. Her primary concern had been them getting reinforcements from Antiva or Orlais. She could prevent them from leaving.

"Well, I am sorry you won't cooperate. I'd like to solve this without bloodshed. Perhaps if you have a chance to reflect on this further you'll change your mind."

Neria thought she looked worried. Her comment had taken the Revered Mother off-guard.

"Templar Eryc, please return Neria to her accommodations."

The templar yanked Neria up by her hair. She was getting really tired of being tugged, pulled and pushed. He pushed her out of the door, down the stairs and back into her cell. Neria sat down and hugged her knees to her chest. Her eyes fell on her butterfly. It wasn't glowing blue any longer and didn't respond when she touched it. Whatever force was at work here to cancel her magic also worked on her butterfly.

The butterfly made her think of Anders. She closed her eyes and remembered the few times she had let him past her emotional barriers, however briefly. She felt a pang of regret that she hadn't allowed herself to be with him. What Sigrun had said the night before felt truer now than it ever had. What did it mean that they seemed to affect each others magic? Or at least, she seemed to be affecting his magic somehow. She wished she had the Tower's library at hand to research it. Perhaps some people had affinities towards others and when they came together it changed their magic? The time she had been leaking magic and he had absorbed it. She had never heard of such a thing. What if two mages could pool their mana that way? Or perhaps two mages could cast a single spell? Her curiosity was piqued. She hoped she survived long enough to satisfy it.

She went over to the straw pallet and laid down, pulling a musty blanket over her. She fell asleep quickly despite her anxiety and pain.

~O~O~O~

The day was perfectly golden and green; golden sunshine, golden buttercups in the meadow, and the deep verdant green rolling hills. He stood in a patch of thick clover, bees busy in the flowers around his feet. _Ah, the Fade. _He recognized it, although usually he didn't realize he was in it until after he woke up. This dream was different somehow.

A butterfly landed on his shoulder; silver and gold wings. It looked remarkably familiar. Anders touched it and the wings folded and unfolded. He remembered now, Neria's butterfly. Thinking about her made her appear. She was wearing a loose white dress that the sun shone through, displaying the slender outline of her body. She sat down on the grass covered hillside and patted the grass next to her, inviting him to join her. He did, but he laid down with his head in her lap.

"Nice of you to come to my dream," he told her. His hand traced the outline of her sharp ear.

"Oh yes, take credit for everything! This is my dream, silly." She pulled on his ponytail playfully and smiled down at him. The sun made a bright corona around her head and hair. "I've wanted to do this for so long." She bent over to kiss him. His lips parted under hers and she gently explored his mouth and lips with her tongue. She pulled away from him for a moment, her eyes looking sad. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should have done this before. Now it's too late." Tears filled her eyes.

"It's not too late, Neria. Don't be silly." He reached out to cup her face in his hands. That is when he saw the vicious bruise on the side of her face and that her eye was swollen and purple. He gasped. _How had he missed that?_ He tried to heal her but she shook her head.

"Magic doesn't work here," she said sadly.

He sat up and looked at her. She was a mess; her hair was disarrayed. He could see her bruised arms and sense the pain she felt in her knees and back. She looked like she had been beaten.

"What happened, Neria?" he asked her.

"Shush, we don't have much time together before they come back." She looked around, looking frightened.

It was like she was in a different place than him. She didn't see the pretty meadow filled with wild flowers. Wherever she was, it wasn't a nice place. "Before who comes back?" he asked.

She jerked suddenly and cried out in pain, her hands went to her ribs. Then her image began to dissolve and she managed to whisper just before she disappeared, "The templars."

Anders jerked awake. He ripped himself so violently from the fade he was disoriented for a moment. "Neria." That dream didn't feel like a normal dream. He looked around. It was late maybe four hours after dawn. He had stayed up late reading, half hoping that he would be awake when Neria came back. _Neria. _The image of her in his dream frightened him. He got dressed quickly and went to her office. She wasn't there. Somehow he knew she wasn't in the compound but he went to her room anyway. He knocked, there was no answer. He opened the door and peeked in. Her bed empty, looking unused.

He thought of the possibility that she had found... companionship for the night. The thought unsettled him nearly as much as his dream. _Better that than the templars, _he thought. _Right? Maker, I am a selfish bastard._ He went to Sigrun's room, he hadn't seen her return either. He knocked and heard a groan.

"Go away," Sigrun said, her voice muffled.

"Sigrun, I have to talk to you," Anders insisted.

He head a thump, another groan and then unsteady footsteps heading to the door. It opened a little and a very bedraggled dwarf popped her head out. "What?"

Anders put his hand on her head and healed her hangover. "Better?"

She sighed and opened the door further. "Geez, I can't believe your people persecute mages so much. You people are damned useful."

"Neria, isn't here. Should she be back?"

Sigrun gasped. "Yes, sodding ancestors, yes! She left before I did. Way before I did."

"She left alone?" Anders asked.

Sigrun nodded. "I thought she would be okay. She was a little tipsy but seemed fine." She knocked her head against the door frame. "I never should have let her leave alone. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."

"I think the templars have her," he said.

Sigrun looked at him oddly, "How would you know?"

Anders shifted uncomfortably, realizing how stupid this would sound. "I saw her in a dream. I think we were in the Fade together."

She blinked, trying not to look skeptical. "Right. Well, whatever happened she's not here. We need to find her. Let's find Zev."

Zevran was out in the training yard working on his archery.

"Zevran, Neria is missing. She never came home last night. Sigrun said she left early. I... saw her in the Fade. She looked like she had been badly beaten and she said something about the templars." Anders hoped Zevran would take him seriously.

Zevran's smile melted. "Missing? When did you last see her?"

"Midnight. I shouldn't have let her go alone. I figured she could handle anything Denerim could throw at her." She looked completely dejected and guilt-ridden over her judgment.

"Everything except templars," Zevran said. "There's a dungeon in the basement of the Chantry."

"You're joking," Anders said. He wasn't fond of the Chantry, positively hated templars, but weren't they the peace-loving, full of light people?

"No, my friend, I'm not joking. We saw prison cells on the way to the room with the blood vials."

"Then, if my dream was real, then she's probably there," Anders said. "How do we get her out of there in the middle of the day? Go charging in and demand her release?"

"We could talk to Alistair," Zevran suggested. "Although is he likely to be able to do anything? He seems...impotent when it comes to the Chantry."

Sigrun snorted at Zevran's choice of words. "Impotent, indeed."

"Ah!" Zevran remembered the templar he bribed for information. "I know of a templar who isn't quite so pure, perhaps we can get him to check those cells."

Zevran went off in search of Templar Harrith.

~O~O~O~

Neria awoke abruptly, pulled out of a sweet, sad dream of Anders, with a sharp kick to the ribs. She clawed away from the kicking feet, pressing herself against the wall of her cell. The templar laughed down at her. This one was a new one, one she hadn't met before.

He looked nervously toward the barred door, then turned to look at her with a hungry stare. "It's not often we have guests here," he told her. "Especially pretty ones."

She struggled against him as he crushed her against the wall. She wished she had paid more attention to the things Zevran tried to teach her, but what good would it do? She would just suffer more if she hurt them. His gauntlets dropped to the floor. A big hand wrapped around her throat, threatening to squeeze if she cried out. Cold air flowed over her belly as her breeches dropped. Tears of pain and fear gathered and trembled against her lashes, but only one sob escaped her. She retreated into her mind as she was thrust against the wall over and over.

"Dress," he ordered her and waited for her to put her breeches back on. He looked out the barred door nervously again and left.

~O~O~O~

Zevran handed over half the stack of coins and Harrith walked off towards the Chantry. He would wait here. He couldn't help but pace. Neria was as helpless as a kitten without her magic and if Anders was right... He swore in Antivan, cursing how helpless he felt. He couldn't hope to rescue her in broad daylight. At night, perhaps but they were likely to be more on guard, especially with her as a prisoner.

Harrith returned. "She's there," he said. He held out his hand for the remaining coins. Zevran placed them in his hand.

"She may not be there long," he said, "she's been sentenced to die an apostate's death. They're just waiting on the go-ahead from the Revered Mother."

Zevran nodded. "Thank you." He put his hands behind him. They were trembling, with rage and fear.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Note: **_*wave* Thanks everyone for the reviews. I sure appreciate them. This chapter is a bit long-ish... to say the least.

The door behind the tapestry opened silently and Zevran slipped into Alistair's office. Only Alistair was there, sitting at his desk reading something. Zevran slipped up behind him. "Hello, my friend," he said, putting warmth into his voice he didn't feel.

Alistair jumped nearly a foot and turned to look at Zevran. "Maker! Don't do that. I could have..."

"Choked on your cheese?" Zevran said, noticing a plate of cheese next to Alistair's elbow.

"What do you want?" Alistair wasn't happy to see Zevran. He had left abruptly to chase after Neria, leaving Alistair's spying projects uncompleted. He was still irritated about that.

Zevran's face changed. His smile dropped. "I want to save our friend. The Chantry has her. They're going to kill her."

Alistair's forehead furrowed. "What? The Chantry doesn't kill people. They... chant."

Zevran shook his head. "Except mages, but no one seems to count them as people. Especially elf mages." His expression was stony. "She's being held in a cell in the basement of the chantry."

"They have cells? I guess for mages, right? Well, apostates and maleficars."

"Or anyone they want to label as such."

Alistair scrubbed at his face with his hands. "Maker, what can I do? Storm in there and demand they release her? What if they refuse?"

"You are in fact, King, are you not? I could swear that's why they let you live in this enormous building. Don't you have troops?" Sarcasm dripped off his words.

"How long do you expect I'll be King if I send troops against the Chantry?" Alistair was getting angry with Zevran's sarcasm.

"Alistair, they're beating her. They're going to kill her. She's just going to disappear from sight, an inconvenience removed, unless you do something."

Alistair buried his face in his hands. "I told her to stop pushing their buttons, but she wouldn't listen." He sighed. "I can't openly act against the Chantry. Neria made me King and I don't believe she would want me to jeopardize everything we worked for."

Zevran flung Alistair's cheese tray across the room. His hands shook with his anger. "Neria put a _man_ on the throne. One she thought would stand up for what is right. One that would protect Ferelden and understand the darkspawn threat. One that would do something about the persecution of mages. What happened to you?" He turned on his heel and left Alistair sitting at his desk.

~O~O~O~

Anders couldn't sit, he stalked around the common room and looked at the two rogues. "Alistair refused to do anything? This was the fellow Grey Warden Neria fought a duel for?"

Zevran nodded. "Do not get me started on Alistair. Right now he makes his half-brother look like genius. I was dangerously close to committing regicide."

"We have to get her then," Anders said. "And hope it isn't too late."

"They might be expecting us this time," Zevran said. "It certainly isn't going to be as easy as the last time." He rubbed his chin, thinking.

Sigrun had been silent the entire time, feeling responsible for Neria's situation, but she finally had an idea. "Maybe we shouldn't get Neria." A smile grew slowly on her face. "Maybe we should get the Revered Mother instead."

Zevran smiled for the first time that day. He slapped Sigrun on the back. "You think like a Crow, my dear."

The Grand Cleric lived in a large manse in the Palace district. There were templars on guard, but not many. This time they didn't care if they went undetected. It wasn't too difficult. The place wasn't guarded nearly as well as the Chantry. A few templars were disabled and restrained. They found the Grand Cleric's bedroom after looking for awhile. Anders set a paralysis glyph right inside her room. Then they waited.

She was an early riser so she went to bed early too. She stepped inside her room, and the paralysis glyph seized her. She was unable to move. Zevran tied her hands behind her and slipped a gag over her mouth while she was paralyzed.

Anders stood in front of her, smiling, waiting for the glyph to fade. "Revered Mother, you have something we want. You're going to give Neria to us." Anders and Sigrun put a hooded cloak over her. Her face disappeared in the shadows of the hood.

"Feel this?" Zevran pressed his dagger into her ribs. "This is going to be there at all times. It is coated with a fast acting poison which guarantees a miserable death when your lungs fail to work. You'll suffocate slowly, a very dramatic way to die, but not entirely pleasant. You'll do exactly as we say or you will find yourself with hungry for air." Zevran paused. "Do you understand?"

The Revered Mother nodded, her eyes looked terrified.

"Good. Your first order is to remain absolutely silent."

~O~O~O~

Neria wanted to cry when she heard the door creak open again and mailed boots enter. "Get up!" She stood on weak legs. She hadn't eaten for nearly a day and had had nothing to drink. The templar bound her wrists and drew his sword. _This is it then, _she thought. _So many regrets. _She realized the things she regretted most were the things she hadn't done, not the things she had done. She shut her eyes waiting for the blow. It didn't come, just the point of the sword press into her back. "Move!" he ordered.

She walked out of the cell. "Up the stairs", he barked at her. She climbed the stairs, feeling the sword still pressing against her. _Are they killing me in the chantry? I would have thought it would be in the basement somewhere._ It was weird, the thoughts you have when you're about to die. Why would she think about the location of her death? _Shouldn't I be praying or something, asking forgiveness for everything I had to do to fight darkspawn? _She laughed to herself, thinking bitterly about everything she had to give up to be a Grey Warden, and on top of that, she was probably damned anyway. She couldn't think of anyone to pray to anyway. She refused to pray to _The Maker. _If he existed, he was a jerk. She didn't know much about the gods of the Dalish, she wondered if they were as idiotic as _The Maker._

The Chantry was dark, it was nighttime she noted. She went out the door and the templar gestured her to the chantry door. As they walked she was more and more puzzled. Two more templars fell in with them as they marched through Denerim. She felt her magic coming back to her. She gasped with the delicious feeling of her power returning, not that it would be of use, surrounded by three templars, one with a sword in her back.

Then they stopped walking. She could see a small group of figures ahead of her, but it was too dark to make out who it was. "Walk," the templar poked her with the sword again and she stumbled forward, walking to the mysterious figures. Halfway there she passed someone else walking the other way, but she kept her eyes fixed on the people ahead of her. As she drew closer she recognized the tall one. "Anders," she choked out his name, the tears were coming and blotting out everything else. She half-stumbled and half-ran to him, crashing into him. She buried her face into his chest and cried.

"See, I told you, it's not too late," Anders whispered to her, his mouth pressed against her hair.

Neria felt someone untying her hands. Sigrun hugged her. "I'm sorry, Neria. Its my fault. I shouldn't have..."

Zevran interrupted. "We'll have time for this later, right now we need to get out of here." He led the way and they ran through the streets and stopped where four horses were waiting. "Can you ride, Neria?" She shook her head, she didn't think she'd be able to stay on a saddle in her condition. "Then ride with me." He lifted her up and mounted behind her. He kicked his horse into a canter and looked to make sure Anders and Sigrun were following.

"Amora, are you with me still?" Zevran asked her periodically. Sometimes she didn't answer, sometimes she said "Yes" very quietly. He wrapped one arm around her waist and guided the horse with the other. He just wanted to feel her breathing.

They rode for several hours but Neria was going limp and beginning to slide out of his grasp. He guided the group into the woods bordering the road. "We'll set up camp here for the night," he told the others.

Anders lifted Neria down from his horse. Zevran felt a pang of jealousy. He had seen her running to him. Something had passed between them. Anders had found her in the Fade. He didn't know what it was but these mages seemed connected in a way he never had been with Neria. The realization stung him, but he wasn't ready to admit defeat.

Anders held Neria close on a log and healed her. He could sense her pain, her back where the templar had kneed her, the side of her head, the bruises on her arms, her knees from kneeling on stone and... he gasped when he realized she had been raped. "Neria. Oh sweet Maker." She didn't hear him, she was asleep.

Sigrun set out their bedrolls. Somehow she knew she should put two of them together.

~O~O~O~

_She was dressed in white again and was waiting for him on the green hillside. He dropped down beside her and held her close. She pulled away to kiss him_. _"It might be the only chance we get to do this, for awhile." She kissed his neck and licked at his ear. Her intentions were unmistakeable._

_"Is this my dream?" he asked her._

_She shook her head and smiled, "No, it's our dream." _

_"That makes sense, in my dreams you wouldn't be wearing this," he tugged at the sleeve of her dress. "Maybe a little black lac_e_ thing."_

_She flickered a moment and returned in a little black lace thing. "Ha! You see, this is my dream," he said._

_"This might be our only chance for awhile," she said and was back to nibbling on his neck and lips. He sighed and sank down to the clover, pulling her down with him. His hands glided over her body and she..._

Someone shook him awake. "What?" he said crossly. Zevran peered down at him. "We have to go, the sun is coming up." He looked down at Neria, she slept with her back pressed closely to Anders and felt the swelling of jealousy again. Zevran walked to her side of the paired bedrolls and took her hand and patted it gently. "Wake up, amora."

_What is amora? A nickname? _Anders wondered. Whatever it was, he didn't like the way Zevran said it.

Neria stirred, yawning and stretching. Her backside rubbed against Anders when she stretched and he realized he would have to stay under the covers awhile longer. She got out of her bedroll.

"Is there water?" she asked, realizing she hadn't had anything to drink for over a day.

"There's a stream. I'll show you." Sigrun lead her to the stream. She bent over and drank greedily. The stream looked to be fairly deep. She bathed quickly. Trying to get the filth and reminders of the templar prison off her. She scrubbed her body with sand until it turned pink and washed her hair. It might take a long time before she felt truly clean again. She wished she had a towel, but she shook the moisture off herself as best she could and redressed. Her clothes stuck to her and felt miserable. She returned back to the camp.

Zevran laughed when he saw her. "You look half-drowned." He pulled a towel out of his pack and rubbed her hair with it. When he finished her hair was like a bird's nest.

"I don't suppose any of you happened to have packed a comb?" she asked.

Anders rummaged through his pack and held up his comb. "Never leave home without it," he said. "It has magical anti-tangling properties," he said and grinned. "But only when I wield it." Neria smiled and went to stand in front of him. He combed her hair out. It kept getting caught on tangles.

"You lied. Ow!" she said.

"Just a little. It is a comb and I take it everywhere." _There! _He gloated momentarily. _Dry her hair, will ya?_

Zevran turned away and started to work on getting the horses ready.

Neria realized she had no idea of where they were. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Back to the Vigil," Zevran answered. "There's no way we can stay in Denerim, now."

"What happened last night? I thought they were going to kill me, how did you get them to let me go?"

Sigrun laughed. "We traded them the Revered Mother for you."

Neria's mouth dropped open into an _O. _"You kidnapped her?" She didn't know which emotion would win, hilarity or shock. They both warred for control of her. "Well, that was... well done!"

"Next question then is, do we have any food?" Neria's stomach was growling furiously. Anders rummaged around in his pack and offered a sad piece of jerky. It looked like it had been lying in the bottom of his pack for weeks. Little pieces of lint were stuck to it.

"We were in a bit of a hurry," he explained and handed the sorry looking piece of jerky to Neria.

She broke it into four pieces and offered it to her companions. They all declined, but she was so ravenous she picked off the lint and stuck it in her mouth and chewed regretfully.

"Let's go, there should be an inn along the road at some point." She swung up into her saddle, hoping she could remember what little she had learned about riding.

The trip back to the Vigil was uneventful, if not exactly comfortable. Neria was quiet most of the trip, thinking about what to do next. The Vigil was in no condition to weather another attack. What use was there of staying if they would be forever harassed by the Chantry? The Wardens needed to rebuild and recruit and that would be impossible under these conditions. She had two options left. Cut off the lyrium supply and force them to sign a treaty with the Grey Wardens, or simply leave the country.

Her prior caution about cutting the lyrium supply had vanished with her imprisonment. Blowing up the warehouse sounded like a good start. Part of her, a rather vindictive part, wanted to blow up the chantry in Denerim. But she was the Warden-Commander, right? As such, she was supposed to be above such spitefulness. She let the notion go reluctantly. Still, the thought of templars aflame warmed her heart.

~O~O~O~

At the Vigil the first thing Neria did was pull Varel aside for a private meeting and explained the problem. He listened, his face creased with concern. He stood at the window and gazed out over the courtyard.

"That's why we have to leave, Varel." Neria waited to see a reaction.

Varel nodded. "I wonder if they'll take the Arling away from the Grey Wardens if you leave."

"I'm betting they won't, but if they do, then so be it. There's always Soldier's Peak. If anything should happen here, take everyone loyal to us to Soldier's Peak. Otherwise, you'll need to run the Vigil on your own. Not that you haven't been all along."

"Any idea when you will return?" he asked.

"Actually, I don't know if we will return. I suppose it just depends on how things work out. It could be as little as a month or two, perhaps much longer. If any Wardens show up from outside Ferelden send them to me."

Varel nodded. "Commander..." he paused, his concern evident in his voice, "please be careful."

Neria smiled and hugged Varel. "I will. You be safe too, Varel."

That evening Neria briefed all the Wardens on what had happened in Denerim. "We're leaving and going to Orzammar. We will be there for a month or two, perhaps longer, depending on what happens on the surface. If we don't get a treaty signed with the Chantry, we'll leave Ferelden entirely. While we're in Orzammar we can help clear the road to Kal'Hirol.' Sigrun and Oghren toasted that bit of news.

"If any of you have any issues with taking on the Chantry tell me about it now," Neria waited.

"What do you mean by _'taking on'_?" Nathaniel asked.

"Meaning, we're going to do what we must to get them to back down on their demands and sign a treaty with us. It won't come down to open warfare, we have no way of winning that, but it might involve some... unpleasantness." Neria watched Nathaniel closely. _Would he object?_ She didn't know how much loyalty he had to the Chantry.

Nathaniel thought for a moment. "I'm in, Commander."

Neria smile and nodded. "Good to have you with us, then." One moment, there's someone else that needs to join this discussion. Neria brought Dworkin into the Keep and sat him next to her. "Dworkin has agreed to accompany us and he's going to have a role to play." Dworkin nodded and laughed his crazy laugh. Neria flashed a smile at him. "You see, Dworkin is going to blow up the lyrium supply warehouse in Denerim and we're going to ask King Harrowmont to stop deliveries." Neria paused for a moment and looked at Nathaniel. He looked surprised, shocked even, but he didn't object. "That's what I mean by unpleasantness."

Oghren raised a toast. "Sodding good plan, Commander. I only wish I would be there to see it happen."

Neria smiled a secretive smile. "You never know, perhaps you will be."

"Any questions, then?" she asked. She waited and none were asked. "We need to make haste. I don't know how fast the templars can be mobilized into some sort of army, but I suspect it'll take awhile. We have one day to get packed. We leave for Orzammar day after tomorrow."

~O~O~O~

Neria went up to the battlements at the top of the Vigil as the sun was setting. She just wanted to think back over the last few days. Her imprisonment in the Chantry had been the lowest point in her life. She had never felt so useless and weak, unable to stop anything that had happened to her. _Alistair, what happened to you? _She didn't understand his refusal to come to her aid. _Has he become such a politician that he won't risk anything, even for friends? _She felt utterly betrayed. She had misjudged him.

She leaned against the wall and watched the landscape change colors with the sky, trying to let the beauty of the scene erase the memories of pain, fear and humiliation.

"It is beautiful, my dear, is it not?" Zevran said from behind her.

She turned, for once not startled. "It is," she smiled at him. He joined her at the wall. "Thank you, Zev, for everything... for rescuing me. I can't ever begin to repay you."

"It is nothing, Neria," he turned to her. "I knew things would be more exciting if I came with you."

She smiled at him. "Will you come with us to Orzammar?"

"I have to, I want to see how my plan to blow up the warehouse works out."

She chuckled. "I have to admit, I liked your plan much better after they imprisoned me. I think a large explosion would satisfy me. I only wish I could be there to hear it."

Zevran looked concerned. "They were pretty rough on you?"

Her face twisted into a bitter frown and she looked away. "It wasn't pleasant. I hated feeling so helpless."

"Did they... touch you?" his words implied more than touching.

"They beat me, you saw the bruises," she answered, unwilling to answer the question he asked.

"That is not what I was asking, Neria. Did they touch you?" He turned her head so she would have to look him in the face.

She squeezed her eyes shut, the tears were stinging behind them. "It's just another form of beating. It isn't a big deal, Zevran."

"Amora," he whispered. He hugged her tightly. "I am sorry I wasn't there to kill them for you." She felt the emotional pain she had kept bottled for so many days finally release and she sobbed against his shoulder. After a few minutes she got control of herself and she pushed away.

"I'm all right," she said. "I can't indulge in my emotions like that." She set her jaw and stared at the horizon.

"You used to, amora, remember? After you killed Danyla, that night you wept in my arms for hours." He tucked a strand of her stray hair behind an ear.

His words stirred her memory of him. She had taken so much strength from him. He had weathered her emotional storms at night so that she could be a leader during the day. She realized how much she had missed that. "I remember," she said. "How did you tolerate me weeping all over you all the time?"

He laughed. "It was easy, I knew it meant you trusted me with your emotions." He lost his laugh and the smile faded from his face. "I didn't trust you with my emotions though."

She turned to look at him. This wasn't a Zevran she had ever seen before. His face looked pained.

"I couldn't tell you how I felt about you. I was too afraid. Afraid I would lose you, like I lose everything I truly care about." He stared straight ahead, unable to look at her. "When you left me, I told myself it didn't matter. I went back to Antiva where I found it did matter, it was my old life that didn't matter." He turned to look at her and took her hands into his. "I came back hoping to start over, with you, with everything."

Neria was overwhelmed with emotions again. The old memories she had worked so hard to contain and push away, came back. For the better part of two years, they had struggled together, slept together, found comfort in each others bodies, and he had given her so much strength. Now he came back and said everything she had wanted him to say to her. _But it is too late. _

He finally turned to look at her. He could read it in her face: sorrow, pity, regret. "It's too late, isn't it?"

She nodded sadly. "I wanted to hear those words for so long, Zev, but I had to move on. There was too much pain. Then Anders..." she stumbled on her words not knowing how to explain their connection.

Zevran nodded and smiled at her. "It is all right. I thought I might have arrived on the scene a little late." He kissed her softly on the cheek. "I will see you tomorrow."

He left her and she watched the last orange fade from the sky as the night gathered around her. She felt inexplicably sad at what felt like finally closing that chapter of her life.

~O~O~O~

She had a bath, a hot bath, the first in what seemed like ages. It helped to lift her mood some. She slipped into her dressing gown, belted it around her, and put her slippers on. She opened her door to the hallway. She had already decided that she would try to hide nothing. So she walked calmly to Anders room, passing Oghren and Sigrun. Oghren's head swiveled as he watched her walk the opposite way from her room, in a dressing gown. Sigrun jabbed him in the ribs and hissed something at him.

_Everyone will know tomorrow morning now, _she thought.

She knocked softly at Anders door and waited. The door cracked open a bit and a brown eye peered down at her. "Commander?"

"Are you intending to leave me standing out here all night?" she asked. The eye widened and the door opened. Anders was standing inside in his dressing gown. He looked flustered. Neria turned and shut the door, latching it. Anders gulped.

"You said it wasn't too late, did you mean it?" Neria asked.

Anders didn't say anything, just crossed the ground between them and pulled her into a kiss. "Maker, yes, I meant it." He kissed her eyes, the tips of her ears, her hair, her neck, everything he could reach, just reveling in the feel of her beneath his hands, under his lips. "So, this isn't inappropriate?" he asked her.

"It is. I hope it is very inappropriate," she whispered. She put her hands inside his dressing gown and felt his chest, surprisingly well-defined for a mage. She felt his hands peeling her robe down her arms. She hoped the spell would hold.

"Maker's breath," he breathed. _Black straps over her shoulders. _He peeled her robe down further, black lace peeked out. Lace that only somewhat obscured his view of what lay underneath. He didn't let the robe drop. He just slowly drew it down, looking closely at every new vista that came into view. Finally the robe reached her thighs and he let it drop and she stepped out of it. The black lace hugged her body so precisely, it was like it had been painted on. He growled his approval.

"It was you then? In my dream?"

She nodded a big grin on her face. "Like it?"

"Where did you get it? I mean... we've been traveling and the Vigil is still a mess. Surely you didn't have this just lying around?"

"You'll figure it out." She smiled slyly. Her fingers went to the belt tied around his dressing gown. She pulled it free and pushed him towards the bed.

"Are you sure you're okay to do this so soon after... Maker, Neria, I know what they did to you." He cupped her face in his hands.

"You healed me, I'm fine," she said.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then this is the other part of the healing I need," she pressed her lips softly against his. "Help me to forget." She pushed him back and he fell onto the bed, taking her down with him. He ran his hand over the black lace, stopping at her breast. He had been right, his hand could completely cover her breast. It was small, but so perfectly formed. His hand ran down her belly and she groaned her approval. He wanted to see under the lace finally. He reached for a strap, tried to grasp it to pull it off her shoulder. He couldn't grasp it. His brain seemed to argue with his eyes for a few seconds.

"Oh!" he said, "an illusion!" He laughed as he realized he had been duped.

Neria laughed with him. "Shall I drop it? I have to warn you, I'm really wearing flannel pajamas."

He frowned at her. "They'll come off too."

He felt a change in the air as she dropped the spell. The illusion flickered for a moment then disappeared. She was wearing nothing. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He growled again and rolled her over, so she was on her back and he was beside her. His hands flickered with a purple aura they had both become familiar with and when he kissed her next he felt that lightning charge tingling down his spine.

They made love with magic. It wasn't magic they had learned from the Circle, it was the magic that seemed to spring into existence when they came together. It was as natural as breathing to them. That night they learned how to give and take power from each other. They learned other things about each other too. He learned that she loved having her ears licked and nibbled. She learned he liked to feel her nails rake down his sides. She felt like she was back in the Circle Tower, learning a new school of magic and she was eagerly awaiting her next lesson.

She fell asleep in his arms and they didn't seem to need to seek each other out in the Fade.


	13. Chapter 13

Neria and King Harrowmont chatted about inconsequentials briefly then he invited her to a more private venue.

"Now, what what can I do for you, Commander?" he asked. He poured her a glass of fine lichen ale and dusted the top with some mineral powder, as is the custom.

Neria thanked the King and took a sip. _Rather like licking the dust off a window shade, _she thought. She raised her glass to the King. "King Harrowmont, a disturbing series of events have happened to the Grey Wardens that threatens our independence from the human religious order in Ferelden." She paused to take another cautious sip. _You know, this kind of grows on you. _"As you know, the Grey Wardens need to be neutral from the government and religions, we can't afford to have our decisions hampered by political or religious concerns. Besides, we represent the Dalish and the Dwarves too, so having one race controlling our order would be disastrous."

Harrowmont's face creased with concern. "Yes, of course. I am familiar with your Chantry..."

"Not _my _Chantry, sire." Neria said with a look of disgust.

"Regardless, I can't believe they would do anything but hamper the Grey Wardens ability to act, and act swiftly, to the threat of darkspawn," Harrowmont said.

"Exactly my concern, sire. Plus they would keep us from recruiting people that we need simply because they didn't approve of them."

Harrowmont shook his head. "This is unacceptable. What do you mean to do?"

Neria smiled, she couldn't help the little deviousness that crossed into her smile. "I intend to cut off the supply of lyrium to the Chantry until they agree to sign a treaty with us."

"Lyrium..." Harrowmont mused. "Don't you mages use that?"

Neria nodded. "Yes, but the Chantry's templars are addicted to the stuff. Without it, they should be completely incapacitated. Since they're the military wing of the Chantry, I expect they will be ready to rethink their position on the Grey Wardens."

"But Lyrium is a major source of trade with the surface, I don't know if I could risk shutting it down. The political implications with the Mining caste are... unsettling."

"Yes, I understand this, but you can reassure your people that lyrium sales will be enormous after this as the Chantry will need to restock their supplies. For some temporary pain, there could be a large financial gain at the end."

King Harrowmont nodded. "But what about the stockpile the Chantry surely must have?"

"We're going to blow it up," she said simply.

Harrowmont's eyebrows rose nearly to the bottom of his crown. "Really?" He tugged his beard and thought. "Do you need some help with this project?"

Neria smiled happily. "There are a few details you could help with..." She explained her plan to Harrowmont detailing everything she would need.

"I will have to take this to the Assembly, of course, but I think we have a good chance at getting it passed."

"If you need something to sweeten the pot, sire, then let them know the Grey Wardens will assist in reopening the Deep Roads to Kal'Hirol."

Harrowmont's eyes lit up at the prospect. Kal'Hirol was known for being a center of learning for the Smith caste. The knowledge lost when that Thaig fell could restore a lot of art lost to the dwarven smiths. "I suspect that would carry the vote, Warden."

"One further request, sire. May I be allowed to recruit while we are here? We have had our numbers severely diminished by the last darkspawn attacks."

"Of course, lass! I will call a Proving for those interested in joining the Wardens."

Neria smiled. "That sounds fine, but my only request is that you allow the casteless to participate as well."

Harrowmont considered it. Casteless in the proving grounds would be nontraditional and his appeal as a ruler was his adherence to tradition. "I'm sorry, Warden, I cannot allow that."

Neria shrugged. It wasn't worth offending him over. She would find another way to reach out to the casteless. She thought they might be the best source for new Grey Wardens.

The King and the Commander discussed many matters and Neria left hopeful that the Assembly would support her request.

~O~O~O~

_To His Royal, __Useless Ass,__ Alistair Theirin,_

_This letter is to inform you that the Grey Wardens are in Orzammar. We are assisting the dwarves with reopening the Deep Roads to Kal'Hirol. Due to our present problem on the surface, we intend to remain here until there is a satisfactory resolution. King Harrowmont has lent a very sympathetic ear to our plight, I suspect he will be willing to lend his support in finding a resolution. If you wish to contact the Grey Wardens, please direct your correspondences to Orzammar._

_I regret leaving Denerim without saying goodbye however being raped and beaten at the hand of templars lent some urgency to my departure. You spineless coward! How could you not come to my aid? Please shove your royal scepter up your ass, you -_

Neria threw her quill across the room, which Pounce immediately found to be an excellent substitute for a bird.

Anders looked up from the book he was reading. "Neria?" He got up and moved behind her and put his hands on her temples. "You're so tense, Buttercup! What has you so worked up?" He looked down at the sheet of paper before her. "Oh."

She relaxed quickly under his touch. He was like a pressure-relief valve for her. "Anders, this is my fifth attempt at writing this. Would you write it?"

"You're joking, aren't you? You want me to write it? You've been restrained compared to what I would write. I'd tell him to go hump a wheel of very aged Gorgonzola."

Neria laughed. "Maybe you should write this letter, that's more eloquent than what I said."

"Maybe you're not in the right frame of mind to write this letter?" Anders squatted to be at Neria's eye level in her chair and turned her. "Perhaps, a hot bath, glass of wine and a massage would put you in a better mood for this?"

"Massage, right." Neria pouted. "You always promise me a massage but by the time you get to my shoulder blades it turns into sex."

Anders scoffed. "And I'm to blame? You lay there moaning like a hussy, what am I supposed to do?"

"Fine, fine! Point taken. I'll be perfectly silent this time."

The best part of Orzammar was that they were being housed in the Royal Palace and there was running hot water. Neria had at least one hot bath a day and felt she was in the lap of luxury. Anders went to the large stone tub and turned on the taps. He poured a handful of mineral salts into the water and some of Neria's dried lavender flowers. When the bath was filled he set a bottle of wine and two glass on the ledge of the tub.

"My lady, your bath is ready," he said with a courtly flourish.

She shimmied out of her robe quickly and stepped carefully into water. It was so hot it took her a few minutes to be able to adapt and sit down. "You're joining me aren't you?"

Anders nodded and quickly disrobed. "Youch! That is hot!"

Neria cooled the bath a little with a frost spell. "Try it now."

Anders sighed and eased in behind Neria. Neria closed her eyes and opened her end of the _loop_. That was what she called this strange magical connection she and Anders shared. It let them pass magical energy back and forth. She found it very relaxing and intimate. Anders felt the tickling change in the air and knew what it meant. He connected with Neria's energy and it hummed through the air between them. She didn't leak and emit lightning arcs like the first time, now it was different, more controlled and disciplined. She could do limited things and maintain the loop. At first it had been difficult but with practice it was getting easier. She could pour the wine and maintain the connection. She clinked glasses with Anders and they drank.

"Could we cast a spell with the loop open?" Neria wondered out loud.

"Try it," Anders suggested.

Neria summoned a tiny frost spell. She felt Anders sit up straighter behind her.

"That was weird," he said. "I could feel you casting the spell. I could sense how you cast it." Anders cast a rejuvenation spell on Neria and maintained his end of the loop.

Neria gasped. "I could feel you casting it. It's not a spell I learned, yet I think I could cast it." Neria started to gather her will.

"Careful, Neria! No, like this." Through the loop he was able to help her shape it.

"Oh!" The spell cast perfectly. "I think I see. Let me try again."

It took a few attempts but eventually she had learned the spell. It was much, much easier to learn like this rather than taking weeks or months of practice like they learned at the Tower. They were excited over their discovery. Neria taught Anders how to reheat the bathwater that was growing tepid. However, they were new at the process and he nearly ended up boiling them, but Neria countered with a frost spell. When they got tired of alternating between too hot and too cold, they finished their bath and got out and dried off.

"Time for her ladyship's massage, methinks." Anders pointed to the bed and Neria laid down, face down. He sat down next to her and squeezed some oil into his hands. This was where he always got into trouble. Neria's back was so perfectly sculpted and ended in such a tantalizingly rounded derriere, with two adorable dimples above her butt, on either side of her spine. He rubbed the oil into her shoulders and down her back. He carefully dug his thumbs into her muscles and moved them around, trying to loosen any tightness. Neria loved the almost-pain of a really deep tissue massage and she groaned involuntarily.

"Now see there, you're doing it!" Anders complained.

"I can't help it, it just feels so good. Keep going!"

Anders worked the muscles around her shoulder blades and on either side of her spine. Then he got to the muscles at her waist, they were a tight, nasty mess. He got more oil and really dug in deep with his thumbs, but they just wouldn't loosen so he started to use his elbows. The elbows were a strong joint, easy to get the leverage to really get traction into a tight muscle.

Neria groaned again. "Oh, yes. That feels so good. Harder!" It felt like he was making all the pain of three weeks on horseback go away. The trip to Orzammar had been long and hard on the Grey Wardens. Only Nathaniel really knew how to ride. He had taught them some and eventually their bodies had adjusted, but they were all still sore and exhausted from the trip.

Anders worked her waist muscles loose; then he was there: _Back dimples! _ Anders loved back dimples and Neria had them, deep ones. _For pity's sake, I'm a man, not a statue of a Paragon. _He could not stand before the back dimples, or rather, he did stand, that was the problem. He cast a healing spell at her back dimples. Of course, the blue light flared with purple jets and Neria's groan turned into a moan.

"You cheated," Neria complained as she wriggled, now aroused beyond the point of no return by the massage and the tainted healing spell.

"I can't help it. I'm helplessly under the thrall of your back dimples." He gently kissed each one and rolled Neria over. "Commander Buttercup, will you kiss your recruit?"

"Yes," she said, "Just promise me you'll never call me that in front of anyone else."

"Never, I swear!"

Neria didn't see the crossed fingers.

~O~O~O~

Alistair threw down the letter on his desk. _So formal and impersonal. So little information, _he thought. The Grey Wardens had essentially left Ferelden by going to Orzammar for an indefinite stay. He pondered what his duty was in this. As the usurper, King Meghren found out, the Chantry can make or break kings easily. He knew he walked a fine line with the Grand Cleric. It rankled that his own position was so vulnerable to the whims of the Chantry and whoever was currently leading it. Privately he sympathized with Neria, but publicly he had to keep his distance, unless he wanted to force a showdown he was certain he could not win. To abandon his friend, his _sister_, to the Chantry; that must have felt like a betrayal to her and the other Wardens. He hoped she would understand someday.

~O~O~O~

"The Wardens left?" Mother Sweeney asked quietly. Her face puckered into a severe frown. "They _left_?" she said, her voice growing shrill. "Why does it take you so long to gather a few templars and keep them from leaving, Tavish?"

"Revered Mother, it would take weeks to gather enough templars to match even the diminished strength of the remaining soldiers and Wardens at the Vigil. Our templars are scattered all over Ferelden, you just can't pull this off in a fortnight," Knight-Commander Tavish said. He wondered if Mother Sweeney were losing her faculties.

She slammed her hand down on her desk. "Well gather them now, Tavish! We must be ready."

She watched Tavish leave and sent for a servant to find Sister Dahlia. After nearly an hour's wait the sister stood before the Mother.

"Maker's blessings, Sister Dahlia," the Revered Mother spoke and touched the sister's forehead.

"And upon you," the sister replied.

"I recall that you had some skills of note before you took your vows. I know we've called upon your former vocation a number of times and I'm afraid we have need of your skills once again." The Revered Mother smiled warmly. Sister Dahlia had been an Orlesian bard, trained as a spy and, sometimes, an assassin. "This time we just have need of information, for now anyway."

Sister Dahlia grimaced. "Revered Mother, I joined the Chantry to seek deliverance from that life."

"Yes, yes, I know child. I assure you, my dear, this is the Maker's work. Even our blessed Andraste bore arms when called to deliver her people from the Tevinter Imperium."

Sister Dahlia nodded. "What do you wish of me, Revered Mother?"

"Go to Orzammar and find out what the Grey Wardens are up to. Send me word and await my orders. I suggest you don't go as a member of the Chantry. Find another guise that would be suitable for that city." The Revered Mother handed the sister a fat purse. "This should cover your expenses."

"As you wish, Revered Mother." Sister Dahlia bowed and left.

~O~O~O~

Five potential recruits gathered for the Joining in the room King Harrowmont had lent the Wardens for the ritual. The scent of darkspawn blood hung heavily in the air, and the recruits bravely tolerated the foul scent. One of the recruits was from the Warrior caste, he'd won the proving held for the Grey Wardens. The other four were casteless. Neria had circulated word amongst them and these four seemed the most promising.

She'd barely slept the night before, worrying over the Joining. How could she possibly know who would withstand the taint and who wouldn't? Did Duncan develop some sort of sense over the years that could help him refine his recruiting. _How many people will I end up killing before I figure out to chose properly? _Anders had barely slept either. Neria's fidgeting and tossing kept him awake until he finally held her close, then her doubts and fears poured out of her in an emotional cascade of words, then tears, then finally quiet as she emptied herself of her emotions.

When she awoke, after a few hours of sleep, she felt emotionally numb and ready to go forward with the Joining. _What if I faint? _she thought. _Sweet Andraste, I am so unsuitable for this job. _She collected herself and tried to remember what Duncan had said.

"The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge on annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint. You will drink of this blood and master the taint, as we did before you. This is the source of our power and our victory over the darkspawn," Neria spoke, hoping her voice didn't reveal her growing nervousness.

She asked Sigrun to recite the words.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day, we shall join you."

Neria had Nathaniel stand behind the recruit, to catch him when he fell. She passed the cup to the first recruit and bid him to drink. As he collapsed into Nathaniel's waiting arms Neria couldn't suppress the tremor in her hand. Nathaniel lowered him easily to the floor and they moved onto the second recruit. The dwarves all waited their turn bravely, none tried to bolt or complained of the ritual. When the ceremony was over Neria found that three had died. Anders watched Neria's face, it seemed to be made from steel today, impervious, but he knew at her core she would be tormented with these results.

Roth, the fiery red-haired, Warrior caste man survived, as did the casteless, female Dagmar, an archer. The Wardens disposed of the bodies of the recruits who died and waited for Roth and Dagmar to awaken. Neria helped them stand. "Welcome, brother and sister, from this moment on you are Grey Wardens." She assigned Sigrun to show them to their quarters and get them a good meal. She left the other Grey Wardens and returned to her quarters, not noticing that Anders trailed along behind her. She collapsed onto their bed.

"I can't do this, Anders," she sobbed, "I am going to resign."

Anders got onto the bed and held her in his arms. "Shush, Buttercup. You can't resign, then you'll have to go back to the tower. Besides, no one else wants the job. You have to do it."

"I don't know how to properly pick recruits. Duncan didn't leave any instructions! Why doesn't Weisshaupt send an instruction manual? I can't have three fifths of the people die during the Joining."

"Didn't you say two out of three died at yours?" Anders asked.

Neria nodded.

"So there you go, even Duncan didn't know how to choose. At least none of yours tried to bolt." Anders opened the loop to Neria and she opened her end. Her sobbing eventually subsided and they both fell asleep and slept most of the day.

~O~O~O~

"So, I take it the Joining did not go so well?" Zevran asked Sigrun.

"Uh, what Joining?" Sigrun played dumb, outsiders weren't supposed to know.

Zevran laughed. "It's okay, I traveled with Neria for two years, I overheard conversations and she finally told me when I questioned her."

Sigrun shrugged. "Well, since you already know. Three of the recruits died."

"Ouch," Zevran said, "How did Neria take it?"

"Stoically, she didn't seem fazed."

Zevran laughed. "She's a better actor these days."

Sigrun smiled at Zevran. _Sodding __Ancestors, this elf is hot. _Sigrun had a thing for elves and it seemed this one was presently unattached so... "Why don't we go to Tapster's? I'll buy dinner and drinks and you can tell me how it is you know the Commander so well."

Zevran smirked, raising an eyebrow rakishly. "Why, that sounds like a delicious offer, my dear Grey Warden."


	14. Chapter 14

**Note: **_Thank you, sweet reviewers! You make my day. :)_

King Harrowmont welcomed Neria with a big grin. "We got you what you wanted, lass. The Assembly has agreed to shut off the delivery of lyrium and deliver a message about the embargo to Denerim."

Neria's heart danced happily in her chest. "Excellent, Sire! I'm indebted to you." She raised her tankard of lichen ale and took a hearty gulp. She was getting quite fond of the stuff. "How many shipments of lyrium are en route? And is there any chance we could use one of your lyrium shippers as a way to get the explosives where they need to go?"

Harrowmont tugged at his beard. While he certainly agreed with, and approved of, blowing up their supplies, being too closely connected with that would probably sour relations with the Chantry well into the future. "Well, I can certainly introduce you to the people who ship the lyrium, but I can't afford to be too closely connected to that part of your plan."

"That should suffice. We just need for our own shipment to seem legitimate. How long do you think the embargo can be maintained?"

Harrowmont pondered, "Two months easily, perhaps longer. The fact that you asked for this embargo swayed the Assembly, so they should be able to maintain the favor of their houses, even in the face of a long embargo."

Neria nodded. "Even if we fail to blow up their warehouse that might make their stockpile dwindle enough to make them fearful."

"Do you intend to destroy their stockpile immediately? Or wait until the embargo has been announced and they refuse to settle the dispute?" Harrowmont asked.

Neria tapped on her teeth thinking. Blowing up the stockpile before the embargo is announced would certainly lend urgency to the embargo. "I think we'll blow up the warehouse first." A knot of panic gathered in her stomach. _Sweet Andraste, what is going to happen? _She had visions of the Grey Wardens being declared an outlaw group in response to the bombing. Perhaps they'd be chased out of Ferelden. Although Alistair knew of her plan to embargo lyrium, she had never told him of her plan to blow up one of his buildings in his capitol city. _That will really piss him off... Good!_

"Please continue sending lyrium until we leave with our... _special _delivery, Sire," Neria asked.

"Of course, lass. Just tell me when you're ready for the deliveries to stop." Harrowmont sent Neria to one of his people who could set her up with one of the surface dwelling lyrium shippers for details of how lyrium was sent to Denerim.

~O~O~O~

Dworkin smelled strange. He exuded the scent of sulfur, chemicals, and lyrium. Neria wondered if Dworkin was himself a bomb. It always made her a little nervous to be around him, one stray spark from her and he might blow up.

"How can we detonate it and make sure we're all at a safe distance?" Neria asked him. "It'd be even better if none of us were anywhere near it."

Dworkin puzzled over it for awhile. "Theoretically, if one could keep a catalyst and combustible material apart and then drop the barrier between the two, it would make a fine fuse. But finding a material that could dissolve at the appropriate time could be tricky."

Neria nodded. "What about something like a thick layer of ice between the two?

Dworkin pulled his beard, thinking. "That could do it. Perhaps to make it a little safer, have a metal plate between the two layers that could be withdrawn so if the ice melted prematurely it wouldn't set off the explosion by accident." Dworkin laughed. "Perhaps even better. The ice could suspend something heavy that would fall down, break a bottle and start the mixing the catalyst with the combustibles. I'll have to work out the details, but I think that could do it."

"So, can a cart full of explosives and lyrium safely travel to Denerim?" she asked.

"Safe is relative term, Commander. It's depends on the weather, humidity, and such. But I should think we have an eighty percent chance of making it safely to Denerim."

"Eighty percent? Andraste's britches, that's bad." Neria shook her head. That was far too risky.

"Is there anything that could lessen the danger?"

"Well, you could hope for snow and very cold weather. The explosives are stable at very cold temperatures. It is late summer and it is starting to get cold down the mountain but it's probably not quite cold enough to ensure the catalyst won't react."

"Cold," Neria said. "I can do cold." She hadn't planned on escorting the shipment to Denerim but now it sounded inevitable.

~O~O~O~

"You're going to _WHAT_? No! I forbid it. You absolutely may not." Anders exploded when she told him she was escorting the shipment to Denerim. "Not only is it a supremely bad idea for you to be anywhere near a wagon full of explosives, but to go back to Denerim? Are you completely insane?"

Neria sat and calmly regarded Anders. She had learned that adding her own agitation to his would lead to two adults throwing tantrums as well as objects, and that was rarely productive. Although, she had to admit the sex afterward was particularly gratifying.

"Sweet pea," Neria said, her voice low and calm, "I can't ask ask other people to take a risk I'm unwilling to take. Besides if I keep the explosives frosted the risk of them detonating accidentally is much lower."

"Much _lower_?" Anders waved his hands at Neria, angrily. "_Lower_? That's not what I was wanting to hear."

"Dworkin says the catalyst won't work if it is very cold. So it should be safe as long as I keep it cold, or the weather stays cold."

"Neria, that's a lot of _ifs. _What if there's a warm spell or you run out of mana?"

"I'll have plenty of lyrium around, it shouldn't be an issue."

Anders stopped ranting and pacing and looked at her. She wasn't going to budge, he knew this. "Very well. I'm coming with you then."

Neria's mouth gaped open. _That bastard! Turning the argument around on me? _"No, absolutely not! You're not needed and too many people will just confound things. You will stay here, and that is an order!" She advanced on him, her face inches from his as she barked her order.

"One I don't intend to obey," Anders said.

"I am still your commander, Grey Warden," Neria hissed at him. _Oh, sod it all. I should have known it would come to insubordination eventually._

"If we're both there we can make sure the explosives will stay cold. What if you were incapacitated and couldn't keep them cold? I could do it." Anders wasn't about to back down either.

Outside their room, the raised voices were starting to draw an audience. Zevran stood close to the door listening. Nathaniel cracked open his door and peeked out. "What are they arguing about?" he whispered to Zevran.

"Who is, and who is not, going to Denerim with a cartload of explosives," he whispered back. "I think Neria is losing." He went back to listening and heard something glass shatter. He winced, sympathizing with Anders. That would be Neria, she was a thrower - lousy aim though. When she started throwing things it meant she knew she was losing the argument. Anders let loose a string of curses and there was the sound of objects clattering to the floor. A smile quirked at Zevran's lips. Nathaniel stood next to Zevran and listened. The yelling had stopped, but they could hear voices, angry still and demanding, and...moans?

"Maker's breath are they...?" Nathaniel asked.

Zevran nodded. "Sounds that way. Perhaps we should give them a little privacy?" Zevran made his way to Sigrun's room. The sounds had sparked his imagination and Sigrun was developing a keen appreciation of Zevran's imagination. Nathaniel, feeling rather lonely, made his way to Tapster's. If nothing else a few drinks would cheer him.

Later, much later, Neria examined the mess they had made. Everything that had been on the desk fell to the floor when Anders had cleared it with a sweep of his arm, and then had seated her upon it. Thinking of it now, after they were sated and officially not mad at one another, made Neria squirm with desire again.

"Anders," she whispered into the sleeping mage's ear. She followed the whisper with a delicate lick of her tongue. "Are you awake?"

Obviously he wasn't. That could be remedied.

~O~O~O~

Nathaniel sat down with his drink. Lichen ale was the best of the lot. He'd tried the Magnesium Malt but it had burned going down and persisted by scouring his intestinal tract over the next 24 hours. Humans just couldn't metabolize minerals like dwarves. Well, if he ever need a cure for constipation, he knew what to use now. He settled back into his chair, determined to get drunk.

After the Blight, Grey Wardens had become extremely popular. He'd heard about how the Orlesian Wardens had to fight off the admirers when they had arrived in Ferelden. He even heard that some of the women had taken to showering them with their small clothes as they walked by. Unfortunately, since he had joined, circumstances just hadn't been right. There was the Broodmother and now this. He had been looking forward to reaping some of the benefits of being a Grey Warden. In Orzammar, Grey Wardens were popular too, but nothing like on the surface. Besides, he wasn't attracted to dwarven women. He liked women who were slender and reed-like in build. Like that one... He watched a very attractive woman walk into Tapster's, a human. She had long blond hair, a slender build, and a pouty mouth.

The woman paused just inside the tavern and looked around the room. She made eye contact with Nathaniel and walked over. "May I join you?" Her voice was a husky contralto. One he thought he'd very much like to hear closer to his ear, in a more intimate setting.

Nathaniel nodded. "Of course, my lady." He gestured to a chair and she sat down. "I am Nathaniel Howe, late of Amaranthine. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

She smiled and held out her hand, Nathaniel brushed her knuckles with a courtly kiss. "I am Dahlia Smith, from Denerim. I was surprised to run into another human. I haven't seen any other humans here."

"Yes, we are rare." Nathaniel decided to see just how good a Grey Warden credential was with such an attractive woman. "I'm here with the Grey Wardens. We're helping the dwarves open a road to a thaig that has been lost for centuries."

Dahlia's smile widened. "Oh, a Grey Warden?"

Nathaniel could swear she just batted her eyes at him. His smile deepened. "May I ask, what brings you here?"

"I'm looking to find a new market for the woolen cloth I sell. Or did you mean, what brings me to the tavern? I'm here for some dinner and perhaps something to drink."

Nathaniel chuckled. "I recommend the Nug fillet. And I recommend avoiding the Magnesium malt. Usually Lichen ale is found to be acceptable to most visitors, but it is an acquired taste."

Dahlia called a waitress over and ordered as Nathaniel recommended.

"How long do you plan to be in Orzammar, Nathaniel?" she asked.

Nathaniel shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. We haven't been here long. It could be quite awhile. We have not even been into the Deep Roads yet. It is a long slog from here to Kal'Hirol, battling darkspawn the entire way." He didn't think it would hurt to enhance the adventure a bit, from all reports he'd heard so far, the Deep Roads had been very quiet.

Dahlia listened, enthralled. "Oh my, that sounds dangerous."

Nathaniel lifted a shoulder. "Part of the job."

They pair chatted while Dahlia ate. Nathaniel's spirits lifted considerably, especially when she agreed to accompany him back to his room at the royal palace. They walked slowly through the Diamond quarter, enjoying the sights.

A town crier heralded the days news: "Assembly votes to embargo lyrium deliveries to the surface."

_So much for secrecy, _Nathaniel thought.

Dahlia stopped in her tracks. "What? Why would they do that?" she asked.

Nathaniel looked at her curiously and shrugged. "Perhaps a trade dispute?"

Dahlia looked thoughtful but continued on. "So you're living in the palace during your stay?"

"Yes, our Commander is a good friend to King Harrowmont. He likes to make sure our visits are comfortable."

Dahlia smiled prettily. "Your commander is a dwarf then?" She knew she wasn't, but she needed to play dumb.

Nathaniel shook his head, "No an elf actually. You've heard of the Hero of Ferelden? That would be her."

Dahlia gasped. "No! Really? Oh my, I would love to meet her."

Nathaniel felt his cachet increase substantially. "She's a nice woman, I'm sure she'd enjoy meeting you. Perhaps if you're around tomorrow morning, we often breakfast together." _Hint dropped._

Dahlia smiled. "I certainly hope so. How is it she became a friend to the King?"

"Well, it is a long story, but she essentially chose him to be King. He's been rather fond of her since."

As Nathaniel and Dahlia walked to his room they passed Zevran and Sigrun walking the other way. Zevran nodded and smiled at the pair. As soon as they were out of earshot, Zevran leaned over to whisper in Sigrun's ear. "How often do humans visit Orzammar? Other than Grey Wardens?"

"Not often," she whispered back. "Usually business is conducted outside the city, but sometimes, if they have connections they're invited inside."

Zevran nodded. His curiosity was piqued. _Who was that woman? _


	15. Chapter 15

_**Note: **__The Grey Warden Liberation Front thanks you for your kind reviews!_

~O~O~O~

_Eggs Ortan_ shimmered on her plate. A delicious dwarven dish of poached deep stalker eggs topped with a sauce made with aged bronto cheese on top of a lichen biscuit. A few slices of smoked, cured bronto bacon kept the eggs company. Two years ago such things would have sent her running from the table clutching her belly in revulsion. Now she savored it. All the traveling and those two years spent eating Alistair's cooking had made her appreciate exotic foods. That and having an enormous Grey Warden appetite.

The elves and dwarves were the only ones that dove into their breakfast with gusto. Anders was eying his breakfast suspiciously. "Oh, just eat it, Anders. It is good!" Neria wiped away a smear of yolk at the side of her mouth. She picked up a slice of the smoked bronto bacon and bit into it vicious, taunting Anders. "Yum!"

Finally Anders gave way and tucked a tiny bite of cheese covered egg into his mouth. His eye brows rose with surprise. "That's not bad, really!" He took another bite and chased it down with some bronto bacon. Nathaniel watched Anders and followed suit. Dahlia took a little longer, but eventually she braved a taste. "Amazing all the things they can make out of lichen. Do you suppose they have lichen cookies?"

Neria turned to Dahlia. "So what brings you to Orzammar, Dahlia?"

"I'm looking for someone to sell my woolen cloth here," she replied shyly. "My family makes the wool in Highever and we are looking to expand the business."

Neria nodded. She was happy Nathaniel had found companionship. He had always been so tense and brooding, perhaps this would lighten him up.

Zevran watched Dahlia, something was wrong. She leaned over her plate, examining her food more closely when a medallion fell out from behind her blouse. _A Chantry amulet?_ he thought. She quickly tucked it back into her blouse. Not that a Chantry amulet was uncommon, but the furtive behavior made him suspicious.

"Have you been to Orzammar before?" Zevran asked. If she was a newcomer then it was even more suspicious that she had gotten access to the city.

"No, this is my first visit," Dahlia replied.

Zevran and Sigrun exchanged a quick glance. "Ah, then you knew no one here? I remember our first visit, it was very unsettling, not knowing anyone. We were the only non-dwarves in the entire place." Zevran smiled his friendliest smile at her.

Dahlia smiled back. There was something about the way that elf was looking at her that made her nervous. His eyes seemed like they missed nothing. She was too experienced to ignore gut reactions like that. "It is odd. Until I ran into Nathaniel I thought I was the only human here." She squeezed Nathaniel's hand under the table.

Zevran watched Nathaniel smile at Dahlia. _Brasca! He is besotted! The amateur_. He thought Sigrun might share his suspicions, if he read her correctly. She was a wily one. He had been impressed with her especially after her bold idea of kidnapping the Revered Mother.

"Do you know anyone in Orzammar then?" Zevran asked.

Nathaniel's brow furrowed. _Why is Zevran taking such an interest in Dahlia? _He could guess why, she was lovely and Zevran was the worst sort of womanizer. He stared at Zevran, barely disguised fury in his eyes.

Anders was picking up on the strange undercurrents around the breakfast table. There was a sort of tension in the air. Nathaniel looked like he wanted to punch Zevran. Zevran was scrutinizing Dahlia a little too closely. Sigrun seemed on edge. Dahlia even seemed nervous. Neria was oblivious and Oghren was.. drunk. _Maker! Drunk already?_

"I met a few merchants already, but other than that, no," Dahlia replied.

Zevran nodded pleasantly. "Perhaps one of us can introduce you to some of the shopkeepers later?"

Dahlia nodded, smiling. "I'd like that very much." She would have to go back to her room at some point and write a message to the Revered Mother about the impending lyrium embargo. Surely it wasn't a coincidence that the Warden-Commander was such a good friend to the King and the timing of the embargo to their visit.

Neria announced there would be a meeting this afternoon until then, everyone was free to do whatever they wanted.

.

Dahlia spent the morning with Nathaniel and then left him to continue with her business. She promised to meet him that evening at Tapster's. She would start her missive to the Revered Mother and, if she could overhear the meeting this afternoon, she could add more later.

She felt guilty about betraying Nathaniel. He had been a perfect gentleman and a sensitive lover. She felt guilty too at breaking her vow of celibacy, even though the Revered Mother had said it was the Maker's work. She thought it was remarkable how the rules the Maker made could be bent at one woman's whim. _She is using me at her own convenience, _she thought. _I'm whoring myself for the Chantry. _A wave of bitterness swelled within her. Still, she was nothing if not obedient. She sat down and began to write her missive. When she finished she tucked it away in a secret compartment in a box she kept in her room.

She gathered her cloth samples and left the room. She never noticed the elf, hidden in the shadows as he was.

.

The seven Grey Wardens and Dworkin met in a room in the Shaperate. Neria expected Zevran would come but he didn't show up. She would have to brief him later.

"I won't soft-pedal this. This is going to be extremely dangerous. Dworkin assures me that as long as we can keep the explosives cold there is little danger that they'll detonate. Anders and I will be along to make sure they do stay cold. But even so, not even Dworkin can guarantee this eliminates all the risk. So I'm going to take as few of us as possible. If anything should happen, I'd like Nathaniel to take over. I've briefed him on the Joining ritual and everything else that he needs to know."

She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "We need two dwarves to drive the cart into Denerim. Dworkin will be one, but I'd like another volunteer." Sigrun and Oghren both volunteered, the two new recruits did as well. "Sigrun, I think your tattoos might give you away as a Legion member. But we could use another out-rider, Zevran will be the other one. So Oghren, looks like you get your wish to see this very large explosion. Or at least hear it, we should be far away when it detonates."

We've promised the dwarves help in reopening the Deep Roads to Kal'Hirol. Nathaniel, you'll be heading that up while we're away. Please take Dagmar and Roth and join up with the Legion group. They should be here within a week."

Nathaniel nodded.

"We should be ready head to Denerim in a few days. King Harrowmont is sending his formal objection to the Chantry's interference with the Grey Wardens in three weeks. That should give us an ample lead time in destroying the lyrium stockpile."

Neria paused. The Wardens looked grim. Whatever assignment they were given, they'd all be heading into danger.

"Any questions?" Neria waited.

"Just one, Neria..." Zevran said as he strode into the room, "what do you intend to do with the spy?" He walked across the room and pushed aside a potted plant and flung aside a tapestry. They all gaped at seeing Dahlia standing there.

Dahlia had the sense to know she wasn't likely to get away. She put her hands up. Zevran took her weapons away from her. He patted her down and found another dagger strapped to her leg.

Nathaniel rose to his feet. "Dahlia?" He couldn't believe it. He felt like an idiot.

Neria's mouth fell open. "Who do you work for?" she asked.

Zevran pulled a folded paper out of his pocket. "This might answer your questions." He tossed it over to Neria. He bound her hands behind her back and yanked her over to the table.

Neria unfolded the paper and read it. "The Revered Mother. Why am I not surprised?"

Dahlia stared at the ground, unable to meet Nathaniel's eyes. She fully expected to die at any moment.

"Well, you might as well start talking, Dahlia - if that's your real name. It saves us from having to resort to unpleasantness," Neria said.

Dahlia sighed, there was no reason to hold back, they knew nearly as much as she did anyway. "The Revered Mother asked me to come to Orzammar and report on what the Grey Wardens were up to. I wasn't privy to why, I was simply told I was doing the Maker's work. You hold the first report I was preparing to send."

Neria listened, thinking about what to do with Dahlia. "Meeting is adjourned. Everyone can leave, I'd like to talk to Dahlia."

Anders pulled Neria aside. "What are you thinking? What if she tries something?"

Neria shook her head. "Zev checked her for weapons, her hands are tied. I don't think she's much of a threat. I just wanted to discuss something private with her. It will be fine, don't worry."

Anders looked concerned but nodded and left. Zevran looked concerned too, he shot Neria a worried look.

She waited until they had left and she untied Dahlia's hands and gestured for her to sit. Dahlia looked confused, but she sat.

"Dahlia, what was your position in the Chantry?" Neria asked.

"I was a sister. I took my vows several years ago."

"Were you from Orlais? A bard? I recognize a faint accent."

"Yes, Warden. I had been a bard in Orlais for awhile before I came to Ferelden. I continued my work here, but joined the Chantry when I wished to leave that life behind."

"But they didn't let you leave it behind, did they?" Neria said.

Dahlia shook her head. "I've been asked by the Revered Mother to spy several times. It's always the _'Maker's work', _or so she says."

Neria could hear a note of bitterness in her voice. "I understand. Perhaps the Chantry isn't quite what you thought, Dahlia." She considered a moment then plunged ahead. "Do you want to know why the Revered Mother wanted you to spy on the Grey Wardens?"

Dahlia nodded. "I have been curious."

"The Chantry is trying to take control of us in a way that would severely hamper our work. This is despite the agreement we have with Ferelden, that we have autonomy from any government and religion. It is very important the we maintain independence. We represent the elves, the dwarves as well as the humans. If one group were to have undue control, we couldn't properly protect all the people we have treaties with."

Neria stood and walked to where Dahlia was sitting. "To end a blight is no simple task. We had to make many difficult decisions, do things that brought us closer to ending the Blight, but the Chantry might not have approved. We use whatever tools we must to achieve that goal and it has served us well. Not since the establishment of the Grey Wardens has the sort of destruction occurred that happened with the first Blight. Sometimes we recruit murderers, thieves, apostates - people that we think are deserving of a chance to fight against the darkspawn. The Chantry doesn't always approve of our tactics, but I don't think anyone could argue with our results. Do you understand the problem?"

Dahlia looked suspicious but she nodded.

"I'm suggesting to you, as you may have already started to figure out for yourself, the Chantry isn't always the bastion of light they would have you believe. Did you know there's a prison beneath the Chantry in Denerim?"

Dahlia looked surprised. "No, Warden-Commander, I had no idea. How do you know?"

Neria smiled grimly. "I was a guest there for awhile not long ago. I was beaten and raped by templars. The Revered Mother was going to try to torture me into giving into her demands and then kill me. Fortunately I was freed."

Dahlia looked incredulous. "The Revered Mother is a good woman, she wouldn't do something like that."

Neria sighed. "She did. Doesn't she see fit to use you however it pleases her? I assume you have to break your vows to do this sort of work, do you not?"

Dahlia's face went blank, she didn't answer Neria's question.

"You obviously heard us talking about destroying a large stockpile of lyrium. Do you know what that lyrium is used for?" Neria asked.

"I know mages use it."

"That's right. Mages use a form of it. But templars use it too, in another form that is much stronger. They are told that it is necessary for their abilities but this isn't true. The true purpose is to addict them to the lyrium so they can be controlled. The Chantry doesn't realize this, but this makes them very vulnerable. If something happens to their lyrium supply, their templar force becomes useless... or worse."

"Do you mean to destroy the Chantry?" Dahlia asked.

"No, that would be impossible. My goal is merely to get them to sign a treaty with the Grey Wardens which is basically a copy of the treaty we already have with the King. They keep their hands off of us, in return we protect Ferelden from darkspawn as we have for centuries. Perhaps they lend us some templars when there's another Blight. It's pretty simple. We shouldn't need this treaty, since the Revered Mother centuries ago signed the original treaty, but the current Revered Mother seems to have other notions."

"Why are you telling me all this? What do you mean to do with me?" Dahlia asked.

"I'm telling you this, because I don't want to kill you. I'm giving you the opportunity to join us. But you either walk out of this room one of us or you don't walk out at all."

Dahlia just wanted to be a Chantry sister. That was all. She wanted a simple life lived in contemplation of spiritual matters and the Revered Mother had made that impossible for her. "I will join you," she said.

Neria smiled. "Good, I'm glad. Your life won't, perhaps, be quite as you had imagined, but I think you'll find fighting darkspawn is a worthy cause." She stood up. "Come with me. There is the matter of a small ritual that is customary."

Neria led Dahlia to her room, Anders was there waiting for her. "Wait a moment, Dahlia." She took Anders aside.

"Let me guess, you're recruiting her?" he said.

She nodded. "Yes."

Anders sighed. "I suppose there's no point in arguing. You already know what I will say. I know what you'll say, and in the end, you get your way."

Neria smiled. "You're learning." She kissed him on the cheek. "Help me prepare the blood."

They prepared the blood. Neria spoke the words and Dahlia collapsed into Anders's waiting arms.

"She will live," Anders said.

Neria wasn't sure if she was glad or not. Dahlia seemed like a decent person, but what sort of Grey Warden would a devout Chantry person make? Especially when they were essentially at war with the Chantry. She hoped she wasn't annoying with her religious beliefs, like chanting something whenever someone sneezed or passed gas.

"I intend to send her with Nathaniel to the Deep Roads, but I don't trust her to be on her own for a week. What do you think I should do with her?" Neria asked Anders.

Anders pondered. "We can't risk her getting word back to Denerim. You can't trust her yet. Getting the explosives to Denerim is too important. Does Harrowmont have facilities where they put high-ranking prisoners? Somewhere nice?"

Neria chewed her bottom lip and frowned. "I hate doing that to a new recruit. But you're right, this is too important to risk trusting her yet. I'll talk to Harrowmont."

~O~O~O~

Neria sat beside the bed where Dahlia was sleeping off the aftereffects of the Joining. There was a tray of food and hot tea waiting for her. When Dahlia finally started to come around Neria sat on the bed next to her.

"Dahlia? How do you feel?" Neria took her hand in her own.

Dahlia's eyes opened. "Ungh... I dreamed... horrible dreams."

Neria patted her hand. "I know, I'm sorry. It was like that for all of us. We'll talk more in the days ahead. But the tainted blood you drank has given you some unique abilities, one is to sense the darkspawn. Can you sit up?"

Dahlia nodded and Neria helped her sit up, propped up by pillows. She gave the new recruit a cup of hot tea.

"Drink this. It might help. There's food too. You'll probably find your appetite is much increased." Neria cleared her throat. "Dahlia, I'm sorry but we're to have to restrict your comings and goings for awhile. We just can't risk word of what we're planning getting out. You're in a room reserved for very important prisoners. You'll remain here until the Grey Wardens go to the Dark Roads and you'll go with them and help them open the roads to Kal'Hirol. Any time you need anything, just ask the guards. Someone will be by several times a day to check on you. I'm very sorry to do this but we can't risk word getting back to Denerim."

Dahlia blinked slowly and drew a deep breath. "I understand, Commander. I will have to earn your trust." _Until I can escape, _she thought.

Neria smiled at her. "Let the guards know if you need anything, or even if you want them to get me." She squeezed her hand and left her.

Neria left her and went to see Nathaniel.

"Nathaniel, Dahlia has joined us."

"She... you allowed her to join?" Nathaniel looked at Neria like she'd lost her mind. "That woman can't be trusted."

Neria nodded. Nathaniel was going to have a problem with her, she did use him.

"Sometimes our best people come to us under less than auspicious circumstances. Take yourself, for example. I seem to recall you want to murder me. And Zevran... well, so did he! Anders... a wanted apostate mage. Oghren, was Oghren, still is in fact. Myself, I was in big trouble for helping out a blood mage. Off-hand I can't think of a single Grey Warden that had exactly a sterling past, except perhaps Alistair, and look how that turned out."

Nathaniel shook his head. "These benevolent whims have worked out well for you, so far. But you know, one of these times your luck is going to run out, Commander."

"I hope not this time, Nate. But regardless, the woman is now a Grey Warden. She's being held under guard for now, when you're ready to go to the Deep Roads, she is to go with you."

"Do you even know if she can fight?"

"Hm, good question. I haven't actually seen her fight, but she is a bard. I think they're well-trained as rogues. If nothing else perhaps she can cook, or darn socks," Neria smiled mischievously, "or sing... I bet she's a good singer." She laughed. "I think you'll find a use for her."

Nathaniel sighed. "As you wish, Commander."


	16. Chapter 16

_**Note: **__The Grey Warden Liberation Front of Ferelden thanks you for your kind support and notes that your reviews will stand as a landmark in the continuing struggle to liberate the Grey Wardens from the hands of the Chantry imperialist aggressors._

_._

The three most nerve-wrecking weeks of her life began today. It was cold in the Frostback Mountains where they loaded the wagon with explosives and lyrium dust, cold enough to minimize the risk of detonation. On leaving Orzammar, everything had to look like a normal lyrium shipment, so it wouldn't do for Neria to be seen supervising this, only the dwarves would be working on this. She paced nervously until Anders put his hands on her shoulders and reminded her to breathe. She felt him nudge open the loop and she responded. Her nerves settled a little.

The explosives went on the bottom of the wagon. There were twelve cases full of them. One case was the detonator. All the other cases were filled with lyrium dust. It would take shifting a lot of cargo to find the explosives, so if anyone did a cursory inspection, it should look legitimate. The wagon was to be pulled by an ox, a slow, plodding beast unlikely to be startled. They had another ox that they tied to the back of the wagon, so they could switch off.

The wagon would travel unaccompanied the first day, with just Dworkin and Oghren. The remaining contingent would leave Orzammar that evening and travel to meet up with the wagon that night. That way, anyone watching from just outside Orzammar would not connect the wagon with the Grey Wardens.

Anders, Neria, Zevran and Sigrun set out late that afternoon on horseback and pushed hard to meet up with the wagon at the agreed upon location. It took them five hours but they did find the wagon and the two dwarves. They set up camp, well away from the road and posted a watch that night. The next day, Sigrun and Zevran ranged ahead of the wagon a few miles, far enough they could give plenty of warning should anyone come. Neria and Anders rode close to the wagon. The weather so far was still cold enough, they didn't need the mages.

Two days out from Orzammar the weather started to warm. Neria frosted the wagon's contents every few hours. They periodically stopped and checked the bottom layer of boxes to make sure they were cold enough. All seemed well. At night the temperature dropped low enough they only had to refresh the frost every four hours.

Sleep was elusive. Neria was glad Anders was with her. Her nerves were overwrought and her muscles were tight from anxiety and riding. She could barely sleep at night, knowing they slept near enough explosives to blow up a large building. By the third day Neria had dark circles under her eyes. She noted almost everyone else did too. Except Oghren, he drank himself unconscious every night. She was almost jealous.

Once every now and then Zevran or Sigrun would ride back and tell them someone was ahead on the road, usually just traders or lone travelers. Anders and Neria would ride off the road, away from the wagon until the travelers were well past. On the eight day, Zevran came galloping back.

"There is a large group of templars ahead. Look to be about a dozen or so. Headed in the same direction we are, towards Denerim, on foot. We'll overtake them before long. You two might want to get off the road."

Neria frowned. "A dozen templars headed to Denerim?"

"Could they be marshaling the templars for some reason?" Anders asked.

Neria grimaced. "Perhaps they expect to do battle with us at some point? Maybe they wanted to have a big enough force to take us on. Maybe they're going to try to take the Vigil while we're away." A hundred reasons went through her mind.

"Maybe Dahlia did get a message out," Zevran suggested.

"Let's hope not," Neria said.

She frosted the contents of the wagon one last time, then they guided their horses off the road. They paralleled the road, but out of sight of the road until they thought it was safe to rejoin the wagon.

"Hail," one of the templars greeted the dwarves as they passed on the road.

"Hail, yourself," Oghren muttered and waved.

"Where are you headed?" the templar asked.

"Denerim," Oghren replied tersely.

"You may travel with us if you like, safer that way," the templar offered.

"We've got a delivery to make. Running late, would love to chat but, you know, sodding schedules... If we aren't on time our customer is likely to... blow up," Dworkin said, his crazed giggling punctuated the end of the sentence. "He's got a rather explosive temper. Never know what'll set him off."

The templar looked taken aback by Dworkin's mad laugh. "I see. Well then, Maker speed you."

They took the West Road to Denerim. Passing South of Lake Calenhad. On the eleventh day the country was gripped with a late summer hot spell. Neria and Anders tied their horses to the wagon and actually sat on the wagon so they could check the coldness of the explosives frequently. They were both exhausted by the time they stopped for the day. It cooled substantially by nightfall, but they would still need to rise every few hours to frost the wagon. For the first time since leaving Neria finally slept deeply. She and Anders took turns getting up to reapply the frost.

"This is worse than having a newborn," Neria grumbled to Anders.

The next day was just as bad. The mages, having not had uninterrupted sleep, would nod off sitting in the back of the wagon. Dworkin had to prod them awake periodically. The heat wave continued for three days then finally broke with a rainstorm. The rain hardened to ice when the mages frosted down the wagon, which was just as well. But the weather was miserable for traveling.

After two weeks of travel Neria was finally exhausted enough she had no problem sleeping next to, or even on top of, the wagon. The weather continued to be typical for late summer, pleasantly chilly during the day and rather cold at night.

As they drew closer to Denerim, the mages had to hide more often. It was becoming extremely inconvenient. Finally they decided to disguise themselves as peasants and walk alongside the wagon, as if they were travelers taking advantage of the company of fellow travelers. They had Zevran and Sigrun take their horses. When they got too tired they would wiggle into the wagon and hide under the tarp covering the contents and nap.

The final day the road was becoming more crowded, making it risky to openly freeze the contents of the wagon. Everyone was beginning to get very nervous. Sigrun and Zevran waited for them just outside of town. They would have to find a place for one last icing, then the dwarves would be on their own.

The lyrium shippers they had met in Orzammar told them what to expect and helped them forge documents. Once they arrived in Denerim, they would take the wagon directly to the warehouse. The big double doors would open and the wagon could be lead inside. The dwarves would be expected to unload the wagon, take their payment and that would be that. All that was going to be different this time is that nearly half of the wagon was loaded with explosives. Dworkin would pull the metal out of the box containing the detonator and when the block of ice melted, the catalyst would fall into the flammable material and the resulting fire should ignite the explosives.

At the edge of town they stopped and watched the wagon trundle down the road. Neria clutched Anders hand tightly in her own. They looked at each other. They were both extremely weary and their eyes were ringed with dark circles.

Zevran knew a secret way to get into town. The four of them would sneak in and set up a watch, far enough away from the warehouse to be safe, but close enough to see. The dwarves would join them after the wagon was unloaded.

Oghren and Dworkin guided the wagon into the warehouse, they'd gotten pretty good at handling the ox. It was dumber than a board but pretty reliable. They carefully stacked the lyrium and explosives, taking care that the lyrium should be on top. Dworkin covertly checked the box with the detonator. The ice would take a couple hours to melt completely. _Then the explosion! The lovely explosion! _Dworkin started giggling and had to cover his mouth to muffle his excitement. He had never engineered an explosion this large before. _With all the lyrium dust in here... _he just hoped it wouldn't be too big. It wouldn't do to take out too many buildings. He quickly estimated the number of boxes of lyrium in the warehouse. His brain, which seemed to be wired for calculating such things, estimated that the building should be destroyed and a good-sized crater would remain. There was a risk of fire, but if the explosion worked well, there might not be enough combustible material left to be a problem.

He put the metal plate from the detonator in the wagon and they realized they didn't know how to make the ox back up, the warehouse was too small for him to turn around. Finally Oghren stood at his head and pushed against him and he took a step back. He growled, cursed and threatened the ox and eventually it backed up far enough they could get out of the warehouse. "Sodding stupid animal," Oghren cursed.

They parked the wagon in town and met up with the others. They were all standing together on a flat rooftop, that had a good view of the warehouse. Neria was so relieved to see Oghren and Dworkin that she hugged them.

"Well, whatever happens next. At least we made it this far," she said. They sat down to wait.


	17. Chapter 17

The Grey Wardens in Orzammar met up with the Legion just inside the entrance to the Deep Roads. Dahlia was released from her guarded room and had joined them. Nathaniel wasn't going to give her back her weapons until they were a well into the Deep Roads, he just didn't trust her, even with twelve Legionnaires and three other Wardens.

The first few hours of walking Nathaniel chatted with the Roth and Dagmar. He looked forward to seeing how Dagmar performed, it would be nice to have some competition. Roth was a _sword and a board _warrior. Judging by the muscles on him, he would hate to see what happened to someone Roth slammed his shield into. He didn't bother to engage Dahlia in conversation, he just kept his eye on her.

"I'm sorry," she said to him, as they walked together.

"Hm," he replied.

"I didn't want to do it."

He looked at her, his expression was cold. "Didn't want to what? Sleep with me? That makes me feel ever so much better," he said sarcastically.

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting her frustration. "No, that's not... I mean I didn't want to spy on you." She looked down at the road, not wanting to see his cold, gray eyes.

"So why did you?" he asked.

"The Grand Cleric of Ferelden asked me to, how could I refuse?"

"I've heard the word _'no' _works wonders," Nathaniel replied, his words dripped sarcasm.

"And do you tell your commander _'no'_ when she asks you to do something you don't like?" She looked up at him, her eyes flashed angrily for a moment, then she looked defeated again.

"That's different," he said. "If she asked me to do something I found unacceptable, I know I could talk to her about it. Besides, she'd never ask me to sleep with someone."

Dahlia sank back into silence and dropped behind a little. She wondered if she could just fall behind. Maybe no one would notice. She could turn around and go back. There were no darkspawn. She continued to slow her steps... hoping...

Nathaniel noticed. He turned and looked, stopping, and waiting for her to catch up. "Keep up, Warden," he growled at her. From then on he walked behind her a little ways.

After a long day of walking they finally stopped. They didn't pitch tents, there was nothing to drive the stakes into, other than solid rock, besides, there was no weather to shelter from. But they did build a big fire to ward off the darkness. The Legion of the Dead and the Grey Wardens gathered around the fire and told stories. Nathaniel told the Legion of their epic battle with the _Mother_. He didn't mention the Architect, Neria had thought it best they not discuss that. She was afraid people would get too complacent about the darkspawn if they heard. He noticed Dahlia listening closely as he told about the battle with the _Mother_, she looked fascinated, perhaps even a little confused.

When they awoke the next morning the company ate breakfast and began to repack for the day's march. In the ensuing chaos Nathaniel lost track of Dahlia. He asked the other Wardens if they had seen her. Neither had seen her leave. Nathaniel spoke to the Legion commander and asked if they would wait while his Wardens backtracked. They set off at a jog, going back the way they had come.

_Idiot wench, wandering around in the Deep Roads unarmed! _Nathaniel cursed her under his breath. As they went back Nathaniel started to sense darkspawn. _Odd, they had passed this way and they hadn't seen any. _He looked over at the new recruits. "Darkspawn," he hissed. The recruits had strange looks on their faces. _Of course, this is the first time they've sensed darkspawn. _That weird, tingling dread that you can't really name until you see for yourself is very disconcerting the first few times you experience it.

Nathaniel wondered if they would stumble across her body or whether the darkspawn would drag her off to become a broodmother. Most certainly the latter, especially since she was unarmed. He nearly ran past her, he was peering into the gloom ahead of them so hard. She was sitting on a short wall beside the road, her legs hugged to her chest, her face buried in her arms sitting on her knees.

Dahlia intended to run back to Orzammar, but as she got further away from the Legion she had the strangest feelings. It was a feeling like she was walking to her doom. Something prickled and teased in her mind. It made the skin on her neck twitch and her arms grew goosebumps. She should just continue. So what if she died. If she couldn't live the life she wanted, perhaps dying was the better option. She would be with the Maker, the Chantry said, or banished to Oblivion for the acts the Grand Cleric had asked her to perform. However, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't continue on in that direction. She finally sat down and tried to block out everything by curling up as small as she could. It didn't work. She still felt that feeling and it was getting stronger all the time. Then she heard the sound of boots on the stone road.

Nathaniel grabbed her by the arm. "Get up," he hissed. "The darkspawn are coming. Can't you feel them?" He pulled her to her feet. "I don't think there are many. Get ready." He and Dagmar got their bows ready and Roth drew his weapon and shield.

It was only seconds before the small group of darkspawn were on them.

Roth charged in, battering with his shield, using his sword to block swings. Dagmar and Nathaniel stood off and shot the darkspawn as they emerged. Dagmar was good, but a little slow, he noted. Roth was doing an excellent job drawing their attention. Dahlia stood behind them and watched, her knuckles in her mouth, biting them with terror, finally seeing, and smelling, that nameless horror that she had been sensing.

It was a small group and they had dispatched them in a few minutes. No one had taken any damage that a healing poultice and bandages couldn't fix. They started back towards the Legion, going at a slower pace than they had been.

Nathaniel pulled Dahlia to the side roughly. "You idiot. Why did you run off?" he hissed. His hand clenched her upper arm and he yanked her along. "Did you hear me talking about the _Mother_ last night? Do you have any idea how these broodmothers are created?" He gave her arm a shake, trying to get a reaction from her. "They're women, like you, that have been dragged off and changed, forced to breed with those monsters and endlessly create new darkspawn."

Dahlia finally sobbed once. "I thought they would kill me," she said.

"Oh no," Nathaniel hissed at her, "you wouldn't be that lucky. Females are too rare to be killed. I guarantee you that. If you want to die you'll need to be smarter about than that." He released her arm abruptly and strode off.

It didn't take long to find the Legion, she hadn't gotten all that far.

"We ran into some darkspawn behind us, just a small group," he reported to the Legion commander, Adhemar.

Adhemar nodded thoughtfully. "They must have been following us. Well, lets see if our luck holds today and the road is as clear as it was yesterday." He gave the order and the Legion began to march.

Nathaniel fished Dahlia's weapons out of his backpack and handed them to her. She took them without saying anything and sheathed them. Nathaniel was frustrated. He knew Neria would handle this differently, but then Neria hadn't been betrayed quite so personally as he had been. She would have talked with her, drawn her out, explained everything she needed to know. He felt guilty about his unwillingness to engage her. He knew he should make the attempt.

"Why did you run?" he asked her.

She didn't answer at first. _Why did she? If I had gotten away, what would I have done? Reported back to Denerim? _She felt conflicted. Neria had raised doubts she had kept suppressed. "I didn't want to be a Grey Warden," she said, "I just wanted to be a Chantry Sister. I tried to leave all the spying and intrigue when I joined the Chantry. I just wanted peace in my life. No more betrayals, no more lying, no more pretending to be something I'm not."

Nathaniel nodded. "I didn't want to be a Grey Warden either," he admitted. "The Commander forced me into it."

"Why? Why does she recruit people against their will?" she asked.

"In my case, to save my life. I was there to kill her." He watched her face. She looked surprised.

Dahlia said nothing. _That had been the deal. Leave a Grey Warden or die. She supposed Nathaniel had had the same offered to him. _"So, you were given the choice of becoming a Grey Warden or dying?"

Nathaniel chuckled. "No, there was no choice. She conscripted me, completely against my will. I thought she was insane. What was to prevent me from trying to kill her later? I guess she knew me better than I knew myself."

"Why did you want to kill her?" Dahlia felt she was prying but she wanted to understand the motivations of these strange people better.

Nathaniel shrugged. "It's a long story, but I hated her at the time. She killed my father. He... deserved it, but I didn't know that until later."

"Maker," she said, "you people have complicated lives."

Nathaniel laughed. "Very complicated lives. Having a nation depending on you for their survival during a Blight tends to complicate things." He watched her smile. She was actually smiling. It was progress.

It only took two weeks to get to Kal'Hirol, the path much more direct underground than above ground, and lacking hills, poor roads and and other obstacles to above ground travel, they made excellent time. The roads were quieter than ever before, but there still were pockets of darkspawn. They even encountered a broodmother. Dahlia's stomach emptied at the sight of it. There were still spiders, deep stalkers, brontos, and the occasional pack of feral nugs, surprisingly vicious creatures, but delicious too. Dahlia had relaxed and even integrated with the group. She even entertained everyone with stories that she had learned as a bard. Nathaniel was beginning to let go of his grudge and enjoy her company.

Kal'Hirol was still empty of darkspawn, having been emptied a few months previously. The Legion and Wardens celebrated the successful completion of their mission with heavy drinking and a feast on feral nug and deep stalkers.

The Grey Wardens volunteered to go to the surface and reprovision for the trip back to Orzammar, which the Legion waited below, not wanting to be on the surface if they could avoid it. There was a small village not too far from Knotwood Hills. They would walk there, spend the night and buy supplies, then return to the Legion.

Dahlia and Nathaniel breathed a sigh of relief at being out from the Deep Roads, but it was the first time on the surface for the two dwarves. They looked overwhelmed with the sky, the horizon, breezes, birds, trees... everything the two humans considered normal. It would have been laughable if they hadn't looked so distressed. The four Wardens dined at the inn and went to their rooms for sleep in a proper bed. They would gather for breakfast at dawn, get the supplies and head back.

Nathaniel and the two dwarves met for breakfast. Nathaniel noted with irritation that Dahlia was late. He decided to give her more time. They ate their breakfast. He tucked some food away for her so she could eat later. When they finished breakfast and she still hadn't appeared, Nathaniel went upstairs and knocked on her door. There was no answer. His jaw clenched. He felt certain he knew what he would find inside. He dug his lock picks out of his pack and quickly sprung the lock on her door. He pushed it opened and a cold breeze lifted his hair. The window was wide open. Dahlia was gone, so were her belongings. He cursed himself for trusting her, but he knew sooner or later they would have to trust her.

A paper fluttered on the little table in the room, weighted down with a heavy vase.

_I'm sorry, Nathaniel. I just couldn't do it._

_Dahlia_

It looked Neria's luck at recruiting her enemies had finally run out.

.

_**Note: **Big-badda-boom next chapter, I promise! Well, unless something disastrous happens...  
_


	18. Chapter 18

**Note: **_I decided to break this chapter up into two chapters because it is taking me such a long time to write it and it was getting pretty long. I didn't want to leave you all hanging any longer. :)_

"Just how long is this going to take, Dworkin?" Neria asked again, for the fifth time. Her hand gripping Anders hand was sweating, or maybe it was Anders's hand that was sweating. Even keeping the loop open to Anders wasn't calming her down. She was afraid she might start to leak magic again, but that would be disastrous with all the templars around. The place was swarming with them, since they'd apparently been recalled from all over Ferelden to Denerim.

Dworkin tugged his beard. "Well, the ice needs to melt, however long it takes. Maybe a couple hours total. I should think by sunset. Soon, lass, soon." But his brow was furrowing.

"Why are you doing that?" Neria pointed to his furrowed forehead. "Something is wrong, isn't it?"

Anders pulled Neria away from the others. "You've got to calm down, Buttercup. It's just going to take awhile." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Come on now, deep breaths."

Neria pulled in a deep breath, closed her eyes and held it as long as she could. It helped. But putting her arms around Anders and resting her cheek against his chest helped more.

"It's okay, Neria. Everything is going to be fine," he kept murmuring reassurances and she relaxed when his voice rumbled through his chest.

_I can't lose it like this in front of everyone, _she thought. She pulled away from Anders and put on her commander face. "I'm okay," she said grimly. She sat back down.

Oghren was passing around a flask.

"No one get drunk," Neria warned them. "We're going to have to scurry out of town after this, wouldn't do to have people falling off their horses."

Zevran sat next to Neria. "Are you okay, Neria?" he asked. He had seen how hard the journey had been on the mages. He was glad he didn't have to stay too close to the wagon full of explosives too much of the time.

"I'll be much better once this is over," she replied. "I keep second-guessing myself, wondering if this is the right thing to do. How many people will be hurt or killed?"

"Just remind yourself how much worse the next Blight or darkspawn incursion will be, how many lives lost, if the Chantry takes over." He patted her hand. "Can you imagine what it would have been like if the Chantry had ruled on everything you and Alistair did to end the Blight?" He laughed. "You wouldn't have even been a Grey Warden, right? Duncan probably wouldn't have been able to recruit you. If I remember correctly, even Alistair wouldn't have been recruited, the Revered Mother tried to prevent it."

Neria laughed. "True. They probably would have purged the Tower and I wouldn't have had Wynne's help. I might have been dead, or turned into an abomination. Not to mention no Morrigan, or Sten. I think that it would have come down to that Mabari and Sandal having to end the Blight."

"Enchantment?" Neria asked.

"Enchantment!" Zevran and Oghren replied.

The three of them laughed. Neria tried to explain Sandal to everyone else, but she soon gave up. There just was no explaining Sandal, he had to be experienced.

Zevran, being the one least likely to be identified as associated with the Grey Wardens, went to get them food. He returned just as the sun was sinking below the horizon. They ate, expecting their dinner to be interrupted with an explosion. But they finished and nothing had happened. They were quiet after eating. Neria wished she could just _do_ something, anything. Sitting and waiting was pure torture.

But the sun went down and the city became dark and nothing happened.

Dworkin was pacing now, muttering to himself. He had worked on that detonator, it should have worked by now. All his field tests had worked. What could have happened? He desperately wanted to go back to the warehouse and see. This was his grand opus explosion, he would see it or die in the attempt.

"Commander, I think the detonator didn't work," Dworkin finally admitted, several hours past sunset.

Neria clunked her head against the wall. "What can we do? That building is heavily guarded. I just can't see us getting into it."

"I recall seeing a chimney on top of that building," Sigrun said. "What if we could send someone down the chimney?"

Dworkin nodded. "I can make another detonator. This one with a standard fuse, a long one. Lower me down there, I can put the new detonator in place, light the fuse and you can pull me out. We would have time to get clear."

"Maker," Anders swore, "that sounds dangerous. What if the other detonator goes off?"

No one answered Anders, they all just looked at one another - except Dworkin, he didn't ask for permission, he went to his pack and started assembling another detonator.

"Can we even get to the roof of the warehouse unseen with Dworkin?" Neria asked. She knew the rogues could do it, but Dworkin would need to as well.

"There's a building right next to the warehouse. We can get onto it's roof and use a grappling hook and rope to get onto the warehouse roof," Zevran said.

Neria hated this plan. "Can't we just lob a fireball through a window?"

Zevran shook his head. "I don't think it would work. They have some sort of magic dampening field inside the building. Besides, wouldn't it draw all the templars to you like ants to a picnic?"

"Does anyone have another option?" she asked. "Please speak up, even if you think it's a stupid idea. Just tell me. Maybe there's something else we can do."

"Hope for a flaming meteor strike," Oghren suggested, laughing.

No one came forward with anything better. Neria paced. Finally she stopped.

"Very well. We'll do this. But we need some volunteers to getting on the roof and helping to lower Dworkin down," she said.

She raised her own hand. Anders raised his hand, then everyone else raised their hands.

"Neria, I don't think everyone should go," Zevran said. "I think Sigrun, Dworkin, and I might be able to do this without detection."

"Are you sure?" she looked at the two rogues. They both nodded.

"It will be exciting!" Sigrun chirped. She started collecting all the rope they had and two large hooks.

"Better than dying with a darkspawn spear in your gut, no?" Zevran laughed.

Neria hugged the two rogues. "Please, please ... be safe."

Anders stopped Dworkin before he left. "How long will that fuse burn?"

"We should have a good fifteen minutes."

"When you get clear, can you signal us somehow?"

"What are you thinking?" Neria asked him.

"We could minimize some of the casualties by drawing the templars away from the warehouse."

Neria nodded. She certainly had no love for templars but if she could minimize the casualties she was all for it.

They worked out a plan for a signal. The rogues would flash a lantern light, once for each minute, approximately, that was left on the fuse. If they timed it right, they could draw away the templars and lead them on a chase, away from the warehouse. They would all rendezvous outside the city at a designated meeting place.

Neria, Anders and Oghren took two of the horses. Neria and Oghren got on one horse, with Neria controlling the horse. Anders got on the other horse. They only had four horses between the six people, so some of them would have to double up on the ride back to Orzammar. Anders positioned himself not too closely to the warehouse, but close enough, he thought, they could detect him using magic, but out of range of a Holy Smite. Neria positioned herself at an angle to Anders so she could draw them away from her. With luck, they could ping-pong the templars between them.

They waited on horseback for the signal. It was getting fairly late when the rogues had left and the streets in this part of town were mostly deserted. The buildings were primarily warehouses and workshops. There were no houses close to the warehouse.

Thirty minutes into their wait they saw the flashes of light. _Four! Only four minutes?_ Neria prayed, to a deity she didn't believe in, that the rogues and Dworkin could get far enough away in four minutes.

Anders tossed out a tiny fireball close to the templars. "Chantry scum!" he shouted.

The templars looked startled. Guard duty was probably intensely boring, chasing after a mage would be a welcome diversion. The templars couldn't see Anders but they could sense the direction the magic came from. Most of them left their posts and chased in the direction of the magic. Anders wheeled his horse around and clattered down the street. Neria waited until they had passed her location then she cast an oil slick on the road behind them. They immediately turned and followed the magic they sensed.

"Hey, stupid sodding templars! Over here, you lyrium-addled, half wits!" Oghren shouted.

"Hold on, Oghren!" she kicked her horse and they rode off. Oghren looked back and watched the first of the templars hit the oil slick. He fell, his friends then crashed into him and fell too. They tried to get up but couldn't keep their feet.

Neria turned her horse in another direction, stopping to wait for the explosion. Oghren could feel Neria shaking in the saddle ahead of him.

Sigrun, Zevran and Dworkin ran as fast as they could once they got back down to the street level, but then Dworkin stopped and refused to go any further.

"I have to see it!" he cackled, madder than they had ever heard him laugh before. Zevran and Sigrun looked at one another and shrugged.

"Front row seats, then!" Zevran laughed.

He barely got the words out of his mouth when they heard an enormous whooshing sound, the sound of air being displaced. That was followed by the sound of timbers being turned into splinters. A huge fireball erupted straight up from the warehouse. Dworkin screamed with joy, although no one could hear his scream over the sound of the explosion.

"Get back!" Zevran shouted, but his shout was swallowed up by the explosion.

Zevran grabbed Dworkin and Sigrun and pulled them behind a wall, just as a fast moving cloud of hot air, filled with splinters, glass and other debris, whooshed past them. The wall protected them from having their skin scoured off their bones. Zevran and Sigrun had to sit on Dworkin to keep him from jumping up. They waited until the waves of hot air subsided then they went to find the horses. It was all Sigrun and Zevran could do to keep Dworkin from running to the warehouse to see his results. All three of them were deafened from the blast. Zevran's ears were ringing and everything sounded muffled and distant.

.

When the explosion happened Neria's horse reared. She nearly fell off, especially with Oghren's weight pulling her backwards, but somehow she kept her seat. "Holy sodding ancestors! That was beautiful!" Oghren laughed. Neria could barely hear him, her ears were ringing from the noise. Neria headed for the nearest gate, the streets were becoming crowded with people trying to escape the city.

"It's the archdemon!" someone shouted. "It's come back to finish us off!"

That started a panic and people began to push and shove. Neria hoped her horse wouldn't panic. They were nearly to the gate when she felt hands grabbing her legs and pulling her off the horse. Oghren grabbed his weapon and was about to start hewing at the hands grabbing her but they pulled him off too.

"Knife-ears, what right do you have to ride when your human betters have to walk?" someone snarled at her. She was shoved roughly into the crowd. She fell into a human woman and knocked her down.

"I'm sorry," she said. She held out her hand to help the woman up.

"This knife-ear attacked my wife!" a man shouted next to her. She looked around wildly for Oghren. She couldn't see him over the sea of taller people. A ring of humans started to close in on her. She turned and tried to run but someone grabbed her arms. She had no choice now. She coiled her energy into her center and released it in a concussive explosion. It stunned everyone around her. She broke free and towards the gate. Someone shouting behind her, she pushed through the immobile people.

She recognized the metallic sound of steel against steel. A sword slapping against plate armor. She turned to look, a templar wasn't far behind her. She didn't think he would dare to smite her in the midst of all these people, it would injure many of them, not just her. She quickly cast a force field and froze the templar. She turned and began working her way to the gate again. She felt a familiar tickle. _Anders! _she thought. He was trying to open the loop to her. She tried to concentrate enough to open it. She could feel him. He must be somewhere close. She looked through the crowd trying to find his tall, blond form. Suddenly she felt him take her hand.

"I'm here. We've got to get out of here. Too many templars." He pulled her out of the crowd surging down the street and they fled into an alley.

"Did you lose your horse too?" she asked.

"The explosion panicked my horse. I fell off. He ran away."

"I lost Oghren in the crowd somewhere."

"At least he's armed, he should be able to make it out," Anders said. "Let's go find that secret exit Zevran showed us."

The two mages, still in their commoner disguises, made their way to where they thought the exit was. It was back in the palace district. They had to cross the flowing river of humanity that was trying to get out of the city. Neria was nearly carried away by the crowd, but Anders kept a firm grip on her hand and he pulled her through it.

"Well, that was an adventure," he said, smiling at her. They walked on, passed by where the warehouse used to stand. It was now a crater. Several small fires were burning in the remains of the former building, but nothing else had caught fire.

"Dworkin is a sodding genius," Neria commented.

They didn't dare remain, someone would come to inspect it sooner or later and it wouldn't do to be seen at the crime scene. But for now, there was no one about.

They turned onto a new street, nearing the hidden exit, and saw a group of templars heading right at them, very close. Neria's instinct was to turn and run but running would be seen as suspicious.

"Just act nonchalant," Neria whispered to Anders. She gripped his hand.

They neared the templars and Neria saw, walking in the middle of the group, was the Grand Cleric. She suspected they were coming to look at the remains of their lyrium warehouse.

"... stop the crowds from leaving, Tavish. They need to be told it was just an explosion, there is nothing to fear." She heard the Grand Cleric talking.

"I think you might be better suited for that, Grand Cleric, they'll listen to you," the templar replied.

Neria lowered her head and kept her eyes at her feet, as they drew near. She felt Anders tighten his squeeze on her hand. She couldn't help herself, but looked up and at the Grand Cleric as they passed. The Grand Cleric didn't seem to see them. Her head was still looking straight ahead. But at the last moment her face turned in Neria's direction and Neria quickly looked down again. Neria's heart thudded in her chest as they walked past the group going in the opposite direction. Then they were clear of them.

"Surana!" the Grand Cleric shouted as she realized who the pair was they just passed. "Stop them!"

Adrenaline surged through Neria and she and Anders began to run. It was futile. The templars all simultaneously unleashed their Holy Smite at them and it flung them into a wall. Neria lost consciousness immediately. Anders had enough time to think, "Oh shit," just before he passed out.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Notes: **__In this chapter Neria and Anders are enjoying the warm hospitality of their templar friends. They chat amiably about their metaphysical differences._

_You might have noticed I changed the title on this story. It seems like what the story started about, phylacteries, has escalated into something much bigger and it suggested a cooler title to me._

_._

Oghren tried to find Neria. It was impossible to see her over the sea of tall humans around him. They saw his nasty two-handed sword and they kept a good distance from him. _Sodding nug-humpers,_ he thought. He finally gave up and hoped she found her own way out and that the shouting about knife-ears didn't have anything to do with her. He walked out of the city and headed to rendezvous point they had agreed upon earlier, a deserted farm well outside the city.

He walked into the perfectly dark barn and wondered where everyone else was, when he felt a dagger against his throat. Then he heard Sigrun laugh. "I recognize that beard!" She hugged him.

"I recognized the smell," Zevran said dryly. "You're alone?"

"Yeah, I lost Neria in the crush at the gate. We got pulled off our horse by some humans with a sense of entitlement. I couldn't see her after that. I was hoping to find her here."

Zevran lit a lantern. Oghren could see the Dworkin passed out in a pile of hay. "He's been celebrating I take it?"

Sigrun snorted. "That's putting it lightly. He has been congratulating himself all night about it. I finally gave him a flask I'd been hoarding just to shut him up."

"That was a pretty damn, epic explosion, I have to admit," Oghren said.

Zevran nodded. "It will be talked about, I think. I wonder what will be said. Freak accident or will they figure out who was responsible?"

"I'd almost hate it if we didn't get the credit," Sigrun said.

"What do you suppose his Royal Pansy-ass is thinking?" Oghren asked.

Zevran laughed harshly. "He's probably shitting himself thinking of those templars in a few weeks time."

They decided to wait a few hours for Anders and Neria to show up. If they didn't show up by dawn they would figure out what to do.

.

_There was the hillside again, covered in green clover. Buttercups waved their shining yellow heads in the sweet, gentle breeze. "Andraste's ass, it is almost nauseating how pretty this place is," Neria thought. "Oh, for pity's sake..." An ewe with a pair of twin lambs gamboling around her legs slowly ambled by. "The only thing that would make it worse would be..." and as if to complete her sentence a rainbow stretched across the horizon. "There's not even any rain," she said aloud, "this is just stupid."_

_"No, isn't that weird!" she heard Anders voice behind her._

_She felt him sit down beside her and start to nuzzle her neck._

_"Oh, stop it!" she pushed him away irritably._

_"What? Why don't you want to canoodle with me, Buttercup?" Anders complained._

_"We're in the Fade, Anders. Do you remember how we got here?" she stood up and paced. "Templars, Grand Cleric, big explosion..."_

_"Neria, can't you just put it aside for awhile? If we're going to be unconscious we might as well make the best of it. It isn't like we can do anything else."_

_"We can think, try to figure out a way to get away."_

_"We don't even know where we are. We might be in that prison under the chantry. Maybe we're already dead and this is where we ended up."_

_"God, I hope not. This place makes me nauseous," Neria said. "Did one of us invent this place?"_

_Anders laughed. "You have a good point. I bet the sheep don't even shit." He pulled her back to the clover, close to him, despite her rebuff earlier and she settled back against his chest. He nudged open the loop and felt her respond. "Hm, didn't know we could do that here."_

_"So what do we do?" she asked him._

_"What can we do... we're in the Fade. We don't even know what's happening around our bodies. Maybe we're already dead."_

_"I'm not dead," Neria said. "I'm feeling things, from my body. Some pain, my head hurts, but it feels distant and far away. I think this is going to hurt, a lot. I think I'm waking up. Keep the loop open, Anders."_

The sickeningly sweet scenery dimmed around her and the pain swelled. She felt herself almost falling back into herself. _I've heard of falling unconscious but I think I just fell conscious, _she thought. It'd be amusing except for the pain. There was a sharp, pulsing pain that felt like knives in her arm. She looked down and saw why, it was broken. Then there was a sick, nauseating pain in her head.

"_Maker, Neria! You're hurt." _She felt Anders voice in her head.

_"How are you doing that?" she wondered._

_"I can sense it through the loop. I guess, being looped, we can communicate through the Fade. I don't know," he told her._

She looked around. They were in a room. It looked like a sitting room, although they weren't sitting. From her perspective it seemed more accurate to call it a _bound-and-gagged, thrown-on-the-floor-room_. She saw templar boots near her face. Anders was similarly bound and gagged right next to her. He wasn't stirring at all, but his chest was rising and falling.

_"I think I can heal you," he said._

She felt something coming through the loop. Would the templars sense it? She didn't see any blue light or other visual indication of a healing spell, but she felt the bones in her arm knitting together and her horrible headache disappearing. The templar didn't react.

_"Andraste's knickers! It worked, Anders! They can't sense the magic this way. I'd kiss you... but we're both bound and gagged. In a room somewhere. Not the prison. Can you heal yourself?"_

_"No, I can't sense my own body. What if you could touch my body? Maybe I could sense it through you?"_

Neria squirmed to get closer to Anders body. She finally was able to wiggle her shoulder next to his.

_"Oh there! I feel it. Holy cow, I am a mess. Broken ribs, concussion...Maker, those bastards broke my nose! I am not going through life with a crooked nose," Anders said. _Neria could sense his outrage through the link. 

_Such vanity!_ she thought.

_"I heard that!" he said._

As Neria watched, Anders's nose straightened out and his eyes blinked open. He waggled his eye brows at her to indicate he was awake and all right. They reestablished the loop, although they couldn't seem to communicate on it while they were both conscious.

Neria lifted her head, trying to look around the room. There were two templars. One of the templars saw Neria moving.

"They're awake, Knight-Commander," he said.

The man he addressed as Knight-Commander leaned over Neria. He gripped her by the throat with his gauntlet-clad hand and squeezed. She choked noisily. Anders squirmed, trying to kick away the templar with his bound feet, he failed miserably. Her vision started to fade and her struggles grew weaker. Just when she was about to lose consciousness he let go of her neck. Her head fell back to the floor with a thunk and her breath seethed through her nose, her mouth being obstructed with a gag.

"Neria..." the Knight-Commander sneered. "I suppose we have you to thank for destroying our lyrium supplies." He pulled back his hand and struck her viciously in the face.

Somehow she was able to maintain the loop to Anders. He could feel her pain. He sent another healing spell through the loop and it faded away. Her oxygen starved lungs felt refreshed too.

"I would kill you now, but the Grand Cleric wants to talk to you first," he delivered a vicious kick to her ribs.

Her ribs cracked audibly. She screamed in pain behind the gag and tears ran down her face. Seconds later another wave of healing rolled across her and the pain was gone. She met Anders's eyes with her own. He looked tortured himself, seeing what was happening to her.

"And who is this pretty mage-boy here?" the Knight-Commander smirked down at Anders.

"That's one of the Grey Wardens that killed Rylock, Ser," the other templar said. Neria looked up at him. _Oh, he was the one there with Rylock, _she thought. _Just our luck. _

The Knight-Commander seemed to have a taste for beating mages, he smashed his plated fist into Anders face. Neria winced, hearing the bones cracking and breaking and seeing the blood gushing from his nose. Anders cried out in pain. She formed a healing spell, to send through their private link. It was a clumsy attempt but she felt him take control over it, and he looked much better. His face was covered in blood, so hopefully they wouldn't notice how straight his nose was again.

Neria didn't know if they could use the loop to target something other than one another with magic. It seemed to risky. Even if they could disable the templars, they were still rather helpless.

"You, however, the Grand Cleric doesn't need to talk to," the Knight-Commander drew his sword slowly.

Panic flared in Neria. He was going to kill Anders! She screamed with fury behind her gag.

"Hold, please, Knight-Commander," a woman in the back of the room spoke. She walked forward and stood over the prisoners.

_Dahlia! _Neria thought. _She's here? _Nathaniel had been right, her instincts had finally failed her. She must have escaped and come back.

"I learned that it is useful to keep a pair, as closely allied as these two are, alive. Sometimes torturing a friend, or spouse, is very effective," Dahlia smiled and fondled the edge of her dagger, looking as dangerous and menacing as Neria had seen Zevran look on occasion.

Neria looked into Anders's eyes and tried to convey how very sorry she was to have made such an error in judgment. But, on the other hand, she was keeping them alive a little longer.

"I'll tell the Grand Cleric the mages are awake," the second templar said.

The Knight-Commander pulled back his foot, looking to kick at Anders, but Dahlia put her hand on his arm. "May I speak with you a moment?" she asked. He grunted, looking irritated at being drawn away from his fun. She led him to the back of the room. Neria strained to hear what they said. They seemed to be arguing but she could not hear what they were saying.

The Grand Cleric entered during the argument. She paused, looking down at the bound mages, fury shining in her eyes. "Tavish, I want to speak to the... to Neria. Take her gag off. Dahlia, come here and report. Why didn't you send a message as you were ordered?"

Dahlia lost her menacing demeanor and bowed before the Grand Cleric. "I'm sorry, Revered Mother, I was discovered. They were holding me prisoner, but I escaped."

_Odd, she didn't mention I made her a Grey Warden, _Neria thought. Tavish yanked her gag off and lifted her off the floor and dumped her in a chair.

The Revered Mother looked at Neria, hatred seething in her eyes. "I need to call upon your skills once again, Dahlia. I understand you were trained in interrogation in your time in Orlais?" She walked over to Neria, and caressed her face with her hand. As her finger reached the edge of Neria's face she pulled it back and delivered a stinging slap to her cheek.

Neria couldn't help chuckling. It was such a weak slap. Neria thought even she could do better than that. _Oh crap, why do I taunt this woman? _

"Revered Mother, you might want to leave. This could get very unpleasant," Dahlia said.

She nodded. "I will leave you to it. Find out everything they have been planning. Do whatever you must. I have to see the extent of the damage done and make plans to procure additional lyrium."

"As you say," Dahlia bowed.

"Tavish, stay. Just in case the mages try anything." She turned to leave, striding to the door. She paused, her hand on the knob and turned back. "Oh, if they survive the questioning... don't kill them. I think it might be interesting to see what lyrium deprived templars would do to them." She laughed. "That seems fitting." She swept out the door and slammed it shut behind her.

"Tavish, put the other mage in a chair here in front of Neria," Dahlia said.

Tavish bent over Anders and picked him up. He grunted with the effort. He dumped him in a chair in front of Neria and went to stand next to the door.

Dahlia played with her dagger again, smiling at Neria. She put the dagger on her face and carefully drew it down her cheek, not enough pressure to cut her. She grabbed Neria by the hair and forced her head back, she bent close and whispered, "Say nothing. Make it look real." Dahlia slapped Neria. It stung a little, but Neria suspected she could do much better. "Why don't you make this easy and just tell me everything?" she asked Neria.

"There's nothing to tell," Neria said.

Dahlia crossed over to Anders. She put the point of her dagger on his throat. She pulled his head over to the side and leaned close and whispered, "Make it look real". She felt him nod, imperceptibly.

Dahlia cut through the fabric of Anders's shirt to reveal his shoulder and the left side of his chest. "Neria, did you destroy the lyrium warehouse?"

"No," Neria set her jaw stubbornly. _What was Dahlia up to? Was she helping them?_. They needed to hold out, perhaps an opportunity would present itself.

Dahlia drew her knife across the top of Anders shoulder, just enough to make a shallow cut that bled copiously. Anders made a muffled yelp behind his gag.

Neria gasped. "No!" she cried. She wiggled in her seat, struggling against her bonds.

"Answer truthfully and I won't hurt him further," Dahlia smiled at Neria.

She shook her head stubbornly. _Is Dahlia really helping them? She couldn't tell if Anders was acting or not._

Tavish looked at Dahlia with annoyance. "Do you call this an interrogation? Maker, I could do better myself."

He crossed over to Neria and backhanded her with his gauntlet-clad hand. This time it did hurt. Her head whipped to the side and his metal glove cut open her cheek. Her scream of pain died in her chest, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Talk, bitch," he spat. Then he crossed the short distance to Anders and clamped his hand around his throat. Anders struggled against his hand, choking.

Neria screamed in rage. "Stop! Just stop! Please..." She threw a desperate look at Dahlia.

"Knight-Commander, please, let me do my job. It takes awhile but it is effective," Dahlia looked at him angrily.

Tavish let go of Anders's throat. He pulled air noisily through his nose, his mouth was still gagged. He ignored Dahlia's entreaty to stop. "You know, it might be easier to get him to talk." He untied the gag from Anders's mouth. "Give me a dagger," he ordered Dahlia. She hesitated, then handed him one. He crossed over to Neria and sliced through the ties holding her shirt closed.

Anders wanted to stop the templar, he thought he knew what was going to happen. "Isn't it remarkable what how conveniently those vows you took are discarded when you have a helpless woman in your power," he taunted the templar.

Tavish ignored him. He sliced through Neria's shirt and ripped it off her.

"You can stop me any time, mage-boy," Tavish said, turning to look at Anders. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes, he didn't want Anders to stop him. Tavish walked behind Neria. The dagger dipped behind Neria and her bandeau fell away from her, leaving her breasts exposed.

Anders growled, his eyes locked on the templars. "You fucking bastard, you touch her and I'll cut your fingers off!"

Tavish grinned and laughed. He stood behind Neria, leaned over a grabbed a nipple, pulling and squeezing hard with his metal-clad fingers. Neria couldn't help the scream that rocketed from her lungs.

Anders couldn't stand to watch any more of it. Neria had begun to show him how to cast a paralysis spell once, so he tried to remember how to do it, using the link between them. Neria struggled through her haze of pain and humiliation and helped him form it. They'd never cast a spell through the link on another person, especially a templar. Would it even work? The spell formed, confined within the link. The link was like pipe that ran between them, or so he imagined, the pipe opened at either end, but could the spell burst out the center of the pipe? He visualized a hole in the center of the pipe. He pushed at it with his will. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and his hands shook, finally he felt it give. It popped though that invisible conduit and Tavish was encased in a column of light, without him being alerted to the spell being cast.

He looked at Dahlia, wondering what she would do. He didn't have to wait long, there was a moment of indecision on her face, then she was cutting the bonds off Neria and helping her to put on her shirt, cut and torn as it was. She did her best to tuck it into place under the waistband of her skirt. Dahlia cut through Anders's bonds.

As soon as he was untied Anders took the dagger from Dahlia. "I need to borrow this a moment."

He stood before the helpless templar. "I'd cut your fingers off, templar, but we're a little short on time. So, just to make certain you never do that again..." he plunged the dagger into a vulnerable place in the armor. It wouldn't be instantly fatal, but, with luck, he might bleed to death while he was held by the spell. He wiped the dagger off on his already bloody, ripped, cut shirt and handed it back to Dahlia. He watched the panic growing in the Tavish's eyes. "How does it feel to be helpless?"

Dahlia looked at him for a moment, her expression blank. "Let's go then." She led the mages to the door. "Let me lead, follow when I give the signal." She opened the door, there was a templar just outside. Beyond the guard was a inner courtyard.

"Excuse me," she said, "did you see which way the Grand Cleric went?" The templar turned and pointed, Dahlia used his distraction to slam the pommel of her dagger into his head. He dropped, knocked unconscious by the blow. "Come," she hissed.

The mages followed her out of the sitting room. Anders recognized where they were. This was the Grand Cleric's manse, in the Palace district. They weren't far from the secret exit, if they could just get off the estate. They crossed the courtyard, staying close to heavier darkness under the trees. Dahlia gesture for them to wait in the trees while she went ahead. She spied a pair of templars ahead. They were standing at the entrance of a covered walkway which lead to the exterior. She returned to them.

"There's two, I can't handle them both," she whispered.

"Anders, do you think you could do that again, with the paralysis spell?" Neria asked. She had no idea how he had managed that.

Anders shrugged. "I can try. Can we get close enough that I can see my target?"

Dahlia nodded and they carefully edged forward. "You go first," she whispered.

Anders started to form the spell and Neria helped him. He felt it complete, but it remained in the loop between them. He concentrated, his body clenched with the effort, and _pushed. _It popped out, into existence outside the loop, and his target froze in place.

The other templar saw the spell shining glistening around his partner. He stared in disbelief. He had felt no magic! He looked around for the source but did not see Dahlia coming up on him from behind. She smashed him in the back of his head with her dagger and he fell.

Anders wiped the sweat off his face. Casting spells like this was vastly more exhausting than the normal way. Neria could feel his end of the loop weakening. They had no lyrium at hand. _Funny, no one does anymore! _She found herself giggling at the thought. She let her own energy leak through the loop and he absorbed it. He smiled at her gratefully and the link was strengthened.

They edged carefully down the covered walkway. There was a group of four templars at the street. There was no way past them without detection.

Dahlia shook her head and looked at the mages. Neria and Anders looked at each other. She had a sleep spell. Perhaps she could form it and he could control it. She whispered her plan to him. He said he would try. She prepared the spell. Anders could feel it taking shape and complete. She nodded at him when it was ready. He again forced it against the barrier formed by the loop and pushed it free. This time he staggered against the wall and felt his vision dimming with the effort. Neria silently leaked her energy to him again. They were both nearly empty. The link between them broke, they were unable to muster the energy to keep it going.

"Come quickly," Dahlia hissed.

They ran, trying to keep to the shadows. Dahlia must have known the secret exit too because she lead them directly to it. They popped the cover on a storm drain and climbed down to the tunnel that would lead them out of the city. They walked to the abandoned farm and reached it just as the sun peeked over the horizon.

The door to the barn creaked open. Zevran woke instantly. Neria and Anders were liberally coated with blood from their beatings and looked utterly exhausted. _Dahlia? Isn't she supposed to be with Nathaniel in Kal'Hirol? _Zevran wondered what had happened.

Neria dropped to the ground as soon as she got into the barn. "Zev, did you get the horses? Packs?"

Zevran shook his head. "We went to get them and they were gone. They either broke free or were stolen."

Neria sighed. "It looks like we have to walk back to Orzammar then. We can't stay here. The Chantry is going to be looking for us."

"You were captured?" he asked.

She nodded. "What was your first clue?" she laughed tonelessly. "Help me up. We have to go."

The group left the farm house and made for the thick woods paralleling the road. They walked as far as Anders and Neria could possibly go. Then they stopped to make a camp, of sorts. They had no tents, no bedrolls, no blankets, no food. But exhausted as she was, Neria couldn't think about it now. She needed rest. She scrapped together a bed of dry leaves that had fallen and she and Anders curled up on it. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her warm. She was asleep nearly instantly.

The others chatted about their situation, realizing they'd freeze to death their first night if they didn't find more clothes, blankets or a warm place to sleep. Sigrun and Zevran went off to scout the area and left Oghren, Dahlia and Dworkin behind to guard the sleeping mages. The two rogues returned. They had found a cave that ran deep into the side of a cliff, but there were no houses or farms nearby. When Neria and Anders awoke they all moved to the cave. They lit a fire, not too far from the mouth of the cave. They survived their first night by sleeping jammed together to conserve warmth and keeping the fire going.

Neria awoke the next morning and found herself wedged between Oghren and Anders. It wasn't comfortable, but it was warm. She spent a few moments trying to think. They had no supplies that was their most immediate problem. Templars were most likely looking for them, that was the next biggest problem. They would have to stay off the roads. She tried to remember what was on the road, where the nearest village or farms were. They could buy supplies, they did at least have money. She turned on her side, facing Oghren and snuggled her back closer to Anders.

"Sodding Ancestors!" Oghren sat up with a start staring down at Neria. "Why are you in my bed?" Then he looked to his other side and saw Zevran asleep next to his other side. "How much did I drink last night?" he asked.

She sat up and laughed. "It's okay, Oghren. You're still a virgin. I didn't take advantage. Neither did Zevran."

Oghren's eyes focused and he saw the rest of the people piled up like puppies. "Oh right, I remember now." He sounded almost wistful.

Oghren's outburst woke the others. Everyone was dirty and sore from sleeping all night on the floor of a cave. Neria pulled a twig out of her hair. She noted they were all starting to smell a bit like Oghren.

Dahlia got up and rummaged through her pack. She handed Neria an extra shirt she had. Neria thanked her, happy to be able to take off the ripped one she had been in danger of losing with one errant breeze. She went to the back of the cave and changed. The new shirt hung down to her knees and the sleeves swallowed her hands. But she tucked it into her skirt and rolled up the sleeves. She went back to the front of the cave and beckoned to Dahlia. They hadn't had a chance to talk since she helped them escape. Dahlia followed her out of the cave. She went far enough away that they could speak privately.

"I hate to question my good fortune," Neria began, "but how is it that you were at the Grand Cleric's estate?"

Dahlia shifted uncomfortably. "I was there to report to her," she admitted. "I was going to inform her of your plans. I escaped when we got to Kal'Hirol and made my way to Denerim." She paused, looking at the ground, unable to look at Neria. "I got there just as the explosion happened. When the Revered Mother came back, I was going to tell her everything. But she had you and Anders and I couldn't believe her viciousness, or what the templars were doing." Her expression looked pained. "I didn't believe you before, when you told me how they had treated you, but then I saw with my own eyes. In fact, she ordered me to torture you."

She looked up at Neria, her eyes filling with tears. "You caught me spying and you embraced me as a sister. If you had been the Revered Mother, I don't think she would have done that. You were right. I am sorry I doubted you."

Neria smiled. "Don't apologize, Dahlia. I don't believe in the Maker but if I did I'd say he was guiding you. If you hadn't gone to the Grand Cleric, we probably would not have survived." Neria hugged Dahlia. "Thank you for what you did. If you don't wish to be a Grey Warden, I won't hold you to it. You're free to go."

Dahlia clutched Neria tightly and sobbed in her arms. _I don't deserve this kindness, _she thought. "No. I will stay. I know my place isn't with the Chantry as it currently operates."

"Then I will be happy to have you with us." Neria hugged her tightly and patted her back, waiting for her sobs to stop.

When they finally separated Neria felt a kernel of happiness within her. _Why not? We all survived. We accomplished what we set out to do. Surviving in the wilderness should be a easy compared to what we've done._


	20. Chapter 20

Gilles Blanchard, the Warden Commander in Orlais, read the message from Ferelden. The Warden Commander, Neria Surana, was having problems with the Chantry. According to her the Chantry was being run by zealots who wanted to gain undue control over the Grey Wardens. Her message was troubling. If they succeeded this might set a precedent that the Orlesian Chantry might follow suit, perhaps not under the current leader, she was a reasonable woman, but in the future this could change.

Neria had asked for reinforcements to be sent to Amaranthine, but he had already sent a large contingent and they had been killed in the darkspawn insurgency there. He couldn't spare additional Wardens. But perhaps he could assist her in another way. He sent a messenger to The Divine, the leader of the Chantry of Andraste, to request an audience. The Divine was spiritual leader of the Chantry everywhere except for the Tevinter Imperium, which has it's own denomination. If Gilles could prevail upon The Divine to intercede on behalf of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden with the Grand Cleric there, they could end this conflict abruptly - provided the Ferelden Chantry would be swayed.

The Divine's chambers in the Grand Cathedral were hazy with incense. The smoke spiraled and swirled in the shafts of light piercing the stained glass in the windows creating columns of movement. It also burned Gilles throat. The last three Divines had all died with terrible hacking coughs, it was no surprise given that they lived in this smokey fog every day of their lives. This Divine couldn't seem to get enough of the smoke, she had taken to inhaling the smoke from a smoldering paper tube, filled with herbs. She expelled the smoke from her mouth, looking like an ancient, withered dragon in the process.

Gilles made the customary obeisance to The Divine and waited until she spoke the customary greeting before rising. He shared a secularism that many Grey Wardens had. This sort of kowtowing to religious leaders was annoying, but one that was impressed upon Gilles by his former Commander as necessary. He swallowed his annoyance and observed every formality the Chantry expected of their followers.

The Divine exhaled another great gout of smoke. "Maker's blessing to you, Warden Commander, it is good to see you again." She coughed violently, and then regained her composure.

_Another Divine dying with corrupted lungs, _Gilles thought.

"And you, Divine Mother," he replied.

"What brings you today?" she asked.

"The Grey Wardens in Ferelden are facing some difficulties from the Chantry," he began, "the Chantry is trying to take away their independence. This, in spite of the fact that they've been so wildly successful with handling the Blight and then another major attack."

The Divine listened, drawing upon her herb tube and emitting more of the smoke. "What is it they wish to do?"

"They are seeking to control the recruiting policies and their independence to act. This will greatly hamper their ability to respond swiftly to the darkspawn threat."

She nodded. "Go on."

"The woman who ended the Blight in Ferelden is leading the Grey Wardens. She says they may be forced to leave the country if the pressure from the Chantry continues."

The Divine tipped her head to the side. "This is the Hero of Ferelden you speak of?"

Gilles nodded. "The very same, Divine Mother."

The Divine steepled her fingers thoughtfully. Mother Sweeney had been her own appointment to the Ferelden Chantry. She was a Ferelden. Although The Divine didn't know her personally, her devotion and intelligence had been highly recommended. There had been some warnings that she might be something of a zealot but most had thought her a reasonable woman. The Hero of Ferelden, she knew, was a mage. Some in the Chantry had a nearly fanatical dislike of mages. The Divine was not such a person. Mages were useful tools - sometimes volatile tools, it was true - but she had been relying on one for years to attend to her many health problems.

On the other hand, the Grey Wardens often did things she disapproved of. Recruiting apostates and maleficars was one that annoyed her in particular, but the Grey Wardens in Orlais kept a low profile so she was seldom made aware of any issues where their paths might cross. In Ferelden the Grey Wardens were highly visible, having just ended a Blight and now being in control of a fiefdom. Everything they did was likely to be visible and known to the Chantry.

"Warden Commander, I can write a letter to the Grand Cleric of Ferelden and advise her to leave the Grey Wardens alone, or at least bring the matter to me for resolution, but as I'm sure you're aware, if I force the issue I could cause a schism. I must tread carefully."

"As you say, Divine Mother."

She dismissed the Warden Commander and drew on her tube of smoking herbs.

"Find the scribe," The Divine commanded her attendant. She would write a decree that would be sent to all the chantry's in Ferelden and the King as well. If the Grand Cleric chose to ignore it, she might be met with opposition from more moderate Revered Mothers or perhaps even the crown.

.

The Grand Cleric found her manse in an uproar. Several templars were suffering concussions, others reported magic that appeared seemingly out of nowhere and Tavish had nearly died. Even worse, the Grey Wardens had escaped. Mother Sweeney let loose a string of surprising profanity. The templars looked at one another with eyebrows raised.

"Clearly we need to examine how we train our templars," she fumed, "because it seems we have an army of incompetent dunces." She snapped her head around, looking for someone to take Tavish's place until he recovered. "Captain Quinn, you'll be replacing Tavish until he recovers." She glared at him. "If you get me Anders and Neria, you keep the promotion. Get their phylacteries. Hunt them down!"

Quinn bowed to her. "As you say, Revered Mother."

"I need a report on the lyrium supplies," she tapped her foot impatiently.

A small man shuffled forward, glasses perched on the end of his nose, he made a hasty bow. "If we recall the smaller stockpiles from the Circle of Magi, Amaranthine, and Lothering, we should have enough to last three weeks. But we should be getting another shipment from the Orzammar in a week or ten days. Right now there's enough in Denerim for about one week. I don't think we're in any danger of running out."

The Revered Mother nodded. "Finally some good news for a change. See to sending messages to those places and have all the lyrium delivered to Denerim immediately, except the Circle Tower. Leave enough there to supply the templars, but confiscate everything else. Any templars left in those cities will need to be recalled to Denerim. I want any lyrium we have to be under extremely heavy guard. Is that clear?"

Quinn nodded. "I will ensure the supply is safe, Revered Mother."

The Grand Cleric spent the entire night snapping at templars, ordering reports about lyrium supplies, and calculating how they would keep the templars from going mad with withdrawals. As dawn came she was ready to go to bed and sleep for a few hours, but a messenger had an urgent message.

_Grand Cleric, Revered Mother Sweeney of Denerim;_

_The Assembly and King of Orzammar have agreed that the pressure your Chantry is exerting on the Grey Wardens is a danger to all the nations and races of Thedas. The Grey Wardens must not be controlled by any single interest in Ferelden so they may defend us all from the darkspawn threat as they have successfully done for the last 1,200 years._

_The urgency of this issue is thus that we feel we cannot, in good faith, continue to supply lyrium until you sign a renewed treaty with the Grey Wardens. We regret taking this step but your actions have placed all of Ferelden in a dangerous position._

_With Kind Regards,_

_King Pyral Harrowmont_

The Revered Mother dropped the note onto her desk and shrieked with fury. Quinn and several other templars came running to see what caused the harrowing shriek. The Revered Mother concealed the note. If the templars found out that they would run out of lyrium in three weeks time, there could be a panic.

She quickly retired to her room to consider her options. She could capitulate and sign the treaty. Her stomach soured as she thought of it. They were brazen and provocative, giving in would simply encourage that sort of resistance in the future. She simply could not give in. She could not lose this fight. The other option would be to hunt down the Grey Wardens and force them to capitulate or slaughter them all. She had to do it before the lyrium supplies ran out. Or, she needed to make sure that the templars fighting the Wardens didn't run out of lyrium, the rest... they might have to do without for awhile.

Her course decided, she was finally able to sleep.

.

Alistair sat up, his heart pounding, woken from his sleep by an enormous sound. The windows in his room rattled noisily and his bed shook. _Maker! What was that?_ he wondered. He dashed over to his window and saw fireball just before it was swallowed by the night and the smoke. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but nothing could clear the confusion in his mind. Yes, he'd seen explosions before, fireballs that Neria had created, but they were nothing like this. He yanked a robe around himself and went out to find someone who knew what was going on.

The hallways of the palace were in confusion. Guards were running to him, looking to protect him from some invisible enemy apparently.

"What happened?" he asked his guard captain.

The captain shrugged. "No word yet, Majesty," was his only reply.

Alistair decided to put sleeping aside for the night and ordered someone to keep him informed. It wasn't long before he heard. The Chantry's lyrium warehouse had exploded.

_Sweet Maker, Neria, what are you doing?_

He knew that as surely as he knew his own name that Neria was responsible. It fit perfectly with her plan to shut off the lyrium supply. He was unsurprised when the message from King Harrowmont arrived around dawn. The picture of Neria that was forming in his mind didn't match his memories at all. She had been a sweet, smart kid from the Circle. Her flashes of brilliance were tempered sometimes incredible naivete. When had she become someone who could engineer such a diabolic plan? Had the Blight and the events at Amaranthine changed her that much?

He was furious with her. Blowing up the building was an attack on Ferelden, on Denerim, not just the Chantry. It was an attack against him. He couldn't look the other way while she waged war with the Chantry. However, right now, there was nothing tying her to the explosion other than his knowledge of her plans. She was lucky, damned lucky, otherwise he'd have no choice but to drag her back to Denerim in chains and hang her.

Later in the day he got the expected visit from the Grand Cleric. Of course she implicated Neria and the Grey Wardens, but she had no proof other than her claim that they had captured them, and they had escaped.

"Wait, wait," Alistair said, "are you saying a pair of mages escaped while guarded by how many templars? How is that even possible? I've seen what templars do to mages, they're helpless as kittens around templars. I'm not saying I don't believe you, I just... well, yes, I'm finding this difficult to believe."

The Grand Cleric shook her head. "I can't account for it either. I think they had help." She didn't want to discuss the help was one of her own people. "It is rather remarkable that Neria even knew about the templars being addicted to lyrium, it is a rather closely held Chantry secret." She looked askance at Alistair.

Alistair shook his head. "Perhaps it isn't so secret as you thought." He remembered being the one to tell her about their addiction. "Well, at this point there's simply no proof they were connected to the explosion. Lyrium is flammable. There was probably just an unnoticed fire in the warehouse." He knew as well as the Grand Cleric that Neria was involved, but he could at maintain a facade of reasonable doubt at this point.

"How long before you're out of lyrium?" he asked, attempting to change the subject.

"Three weeks, Your Majesty," she replied. "I'm trying to keep the news of the lyrium embargo from the templars. I don't want to start a panic."

"They're going to find out at some point. Then what do you intend to do? I can't have them running unchecked through the streets of Denerim in the midst of withdrawals."

"We're going to concentrate the templars that aren't utterly necessary to a camp, outside of West Hills." She shifted nervously. "I could use some troops to ensure peace is kept."

"Revered Mother, have you considered that perhaps your policy of addicting templars to lyrium is a rather dangerous course of action? You claim it lets you control the templars, but don't the dwarves or whoever ends up with the lyrium have the ultimate control?"

She looked uncomfortable when confronted with this truth. "It's necessary..."

"...bullshit and you know it." Alistair felt his temper slipping away from him. He was getting tired of this nonsense. "I will give you troops to guard the templars on your estate on one condition: sign the treaty the dwarves have asked for. You might also want to consider not addicting any future templars to lyrium to prevent something like this from happening again."

The Grand Cleric stared at Alistair, anger rising. "I will not sign a treaty with that _mage_. If I have to destroy the Grey Wardens to get to her, then so be it!" She turned on her heel and left.

The Revered Mother had her next unpleasant surprise when she returned to her manse.

Quinn was waiting for her. He bowed deeply. "Revered Mother, there is something wrong with the Grey Wardens's phylacteries. They lead us to a slaughterhouse and the trail ended there."

Phylacteries were used by templars to track renegade mages. They would lead the templars to wherever the mage was, or if they were dead, where they died. There was no sign that the mages had ever been to the slaughterhouse, no one had ever seen them.

"Maker!" she swore. It suddenly made sense. The break-in to the Chantry had succeeded after all. They had substituted the blood of some animal for their own. She felt a horrible headache coming on. The stress of the past day and the lack of sleep was finally taking it's toll on her.

"I want you to gather twenty of the most capable templars and hire some trackers. We're going to track them another way. See that the other templars here in Denerim are sent to West Hill with enough lyrium to get them there."

Quinn bowed low to the Revered Mother and hurried away to do her bidding.


	21. Chapter 21

**Note: **_Sorry for the delay, I wrote myself into a corner and I've been trying to figure out how to make this work! That'll teach me to write by the seat of my pants! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! Woot! Makes my day. Lots of sex in this chapter!_

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Anders's warm breath feathered wisps of her hair across her ear, tickling her awake. Her forehead was chilly, it was the only part of her peeping out from under the furs that covered her and Anders. Enchanted furs at that. Anders had devised a spell to enchant the furs with warmth. She had worked out how to make things more water repellent. In the days since running from Denerim, between them, and the hunting abilities of the others, they hadn't frozen to death, or starved. The mages, out of necessity, were trying things they had never learned at the Circle. Neria was close to figuring out how to erect force fields that could shelter them from the elements but otherwise leave them unaffected. She just needed to learn how to make them last longer.

They had made occasional forays out of the woods to bargain for items they needed while they journeyed off the road to Orzammar. From time to time, they stole what they needed, but always left coins to generously cover the replacement of whatever they stole. The journey by wagon took three weeks by road, it was much, much slower going off the road, hiding in dense woods or climbing over hills and mountains. They figured it might take two months traveling like this. They had to stop constantly to hunt or gather food. Sometimes they would stop for a few days at a time, to dry and smoke a large animal they had killed or fish.

They were starting to look as wild as the forest around them. Many of them wore cloaks or rudimentary clothes made out of animal skins. Beards were getting long and scraggly. Neria had given up on the little braids in her hair. She didn't even have a comb. She just used her fingers to pull the tangles out. The last time they had tried to approach a farmhouse the people had run away in terror, assuming they were a band of outlaws by their looks. They had stolen what they needed and left a pile of coins.

But at least they didn't stink. There was plenty of water around and the mages could make a force field that held the water, which they heated with a blast of flame. Anyone who wished could have a nice warm bath with a minimum of fuss. The last farmhouse had provided several bars of sweetly scented soap. The skins didn't stink either. Between spells of preservation and careful cleaning of the skins, they were nearly odorless.

Neria yawned and stretched, her backside bumping into his groin. Anders, she noted, must be having a pleasant dream. It had been a long time since they had had any opportunity for anything but semi-chaste kisses. They hadn't had privacy at first, when they all had to sleep together sharing body heat, but now with their enchanted furs they slept a ways apart from the others. They had a little privacy, if they were very, very quiet. She turned over, so her face was next to his. Her hand groped under the fur, reaching for his erection. She wore a mischievous smile that made her eyes crinkle. When her hand touched him, his eyes flew open looking very startled.

"Shush," she warned him, her finger on her lips.

He blinked very slowly and let out a breath he had been holding. "Maker," he whispered, "what a way to wake up." His hand glided down her belly, found the waistband of her trousers and pushed them down, taking her smalls with them. He rubbed the heel of his hand against her, making her draw in her breath with a loud hiss.

"Shush!" he told her.

Her mischievousness was contagious. She could see it in his eyes now. It had become a contest, to see who could get the other to make too much noise. Sometimes they got a little competitive with one another, this was going to be one of those occasions. Anders sent a healing spell through the hand rubbing her and she covered her mouth with her free hand to prevent the loud moan that so wanted to escape. She retaliated with tiny electrical arcs from her hand into him. He forgot himself and moaned loudly and jerked his hips so wildly she nearly lost hold of him.

"Fuck!" he hissed quietly, cursing his near lack of control. It had been too long.

"Good idea," she whispered, deliberately misinterpreting his exclamation. She pulled his clothes out the way and looped a leg over his hip and guided him to her entrance. They moved together carefully, subtly, hoping to not attract any attention. Anders hitched up her shirt and sucked on her breasts, muffling his moans in her chest. Neria bit down on the furs to keep herself silent. Then Anders flooded her with his tainted healing energy. Through the loop she was able to reflect some back at him. She hadn't ever done that before, she watched him closely to see how he responded. He was close, very close. She followed it up with her special electrical charge. He learned quickly, he reflected part of it back to her. She felt the bolt of energy flood through her, pooling in her center and it sent her over the edge, moaning as quietly as she could. Her reaction took him with her and he surged into her with a quiet grunt of pleasure.

They lay together for awhile, waiting for their ragged breath to calm and their hearts to stop galloping. She kissed him tenderly, thinking how close she had come to losing him when the Chantry had captured them.

"How did I get so lucky?" Anders whispered quietly in her ear. "Not all that long ago, I was going to be hanged as an apostate and now..."

"Now you're going to be hung as an apostate, and you're living in squalor with a group of outlaws. Without even a comb." She mused his hair even worse than it was to start with. "You've come up in the world." She giggled quietly.

Anders held her gray eyes with his. "It is worth it to wake up next to you every morning." He buried his mouth into her neck and mumbled something.

"What?" She pushed his mouth away from her neck.

"I said..." He buried his face between her breasts and mumbled again.

She sighed. "All right, don't tell me what you said." She pulled up her smalls and her trousers and pulled down her shirt, trapping his head.

He squirmed out of her trap and put his mouth right next to her ear and whispered, "I love you."

Her eyes shone with the tears that threatened to spill. She pressed her lips to his, trying to express in that one kiss everything she felt for him. She didn't even come close. She knew she would spend her lifetime, whatever was left of it, trying.

.

Ser Harrith, the templar Zevran had bribed, was getting quite wealthy. Poverty wasn't the only vow that Harrith had broken, but it was his least favorite. With poverty, he couldn't afford to break the others vows as often as he liked. With the destruction of the lyrium warehouse, the templars remaining in Denerim with him were getting nervous and were buying lyrium from him. Word eventually got to him that not only had the stockpile been destroyed but the dwarves had stopped any further deliveries until the Grand Cleric mended her rift with the Grey Wardens. While it was, in one sense, extremely good news for him, in another sense it wasn't. Eventually even he would run out of lyrium and he was just as addicted as every other templar. He tripled his usual price and spread word of the dwarven embargo to the other templars. He was going to maximize his gain.

There were other rumors too. That most of the templars had been taken away and were being held in a camp, deprived of lyrium. Only a few had been left in Denerim, like him, mostly to guard the Grand Cleric. Apostates were practically ignored these days and the Grand Cleric was in fear for her life.

In some ways Harrith knew he had had a role to play in bringing these events about. He had sold key information to the Wardens, but he didn't trouble himself with guilt. The Chantry sought to control templars as they sought to control the mages. It was a game of control the Chantry was too fond of playing. He was happy to see it backfiring on them for a change.

* * *

The weekly service that was attended by the nobility in Denerim was the only service that Mother Sweeney was personally delivering these days. Alistair had long ago tired of hearing her voice. He would have used it as an excuse to nod off, but Eamon shoved an elbow into his side every time his eyes fell shut. He looked around, most of the other nobles he knew were catching up on sleep, a few of the extremely devout were paying close attention.

The Grand Cleric hadn't been plaguing him incessantly since he had lost his temper with her and refused to supply troops to guard her lyrium deprived templars. He was grateful for the respite. He wondered what Neria was up to. He suspected they would go back to Orzammar since they had such strong allies there, but he knew the Chantry was actively hunting them. He thought the Grand Cleric had lost all objectivity in her pursuit for victory over Neria. He was certain her goal of gaining control over the Grey Wardens was now secondary to simply crushing Neria.

Alistair hadn't been idle since the warehouse exploded. He had hired some people to spread the rumor that their had been a fire in the warehouse. He knew the Chantry was circulating their own rumors that it had been done by the Grey Wardens. When it came to credibility, the Chantry usually won out. Still, most people weren't willing to believe the Hero of Ferelden would attack Denerim.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.  
Foul and corrupt are they  
Who have taken His gift  
And turned it against His children.  
They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones.  
They shall find no rest in this world  
Or beyond."

It was the Grand Cleric's favorite passage to drone on about, ever since Neria had first crossed her path. She went on and on every week about magic. The Canticles of Transfiguration deserved a rest. Alistair let her voice fade into the background and he daydreamed, trying to maintain an interested look on his face.

"What is a maleficar?" the Grand Cleric asked rhetorically. "Is it simply a mage that practices blood magic? Is this a suitable definition? Why do we keep the lawful mages of Ferelden in a tower but in order to ensure their power is not put to ill purpose?" She paused for a moment. "The Chantry has the Maker-given duty to protect innocents from mages and we perform that duty tirelessly."

She paced behind her lectern, her voice grew in power, finally catching Alistair's attention.

"But there are dangerous mages that the Chantry cannot protect the citizens of Ferelden from. Not only do they wield dangerous and forbidden magics, they wield political power. Not since the Tevinter Imperium have mages wielded so much influence and power so openly in Ferelden. They are unchecked by anyone, free to do as they please.

I speak of the Grey Wardens, good people.

Yes, we are all grateful at their part in ending the Blight, but they appointed a mage to lead the order in Ferelden..."

Alistair had had enough. It was bad enough what she had been doing behind the scenes, but to try to turn Fereldans again the Grey Wardens was beyond the pale. Alistair got up, he gestured to Eamon and others in his retinue. They turned and left the Chantry. A few other nobles followed behind, ones who still remembered the horror that the Grey Wardens had delivered them from. The Chantry erupted into a low rumbling of murmurs and the Grand Cleric stopped her address, waiting until they had left. What she said after that, Alistair could only imagine.

* * *

Interim Knight-Commander Quinn had been tracking the Wardens for two weeks now. His group of templars had enough lyrium for five, maybe six weeks. Ample time, he believed, to find the Grey Wardens. The Grand Cleric believed they would head back to Orzammar. They followed the West Road, out of Denerim, stopping at farms and villages along the way to make inquiries. So far he knew they were not on horseback and were ill-equipped. Several villagers and farm-holders had sold them things. The latest reports had them wearing animal skins and looking like barbarians. With luck he might find them frozen to death. Autumn was definitely on hand and the temperatures had been plummeting. If they were as ill-equipped as he suspected, there would be little chance they could survive in Frostback Mountains. The Wardens were obviously not traveling on the road, although they sometimes ventured near to trade with the farm-holders.

"Ser Quinn," one of the trackers called for his attention. He was bent over something. Quinn walked over and looked down. A ripped and torn shirt lay in the mud. Something about it seemed familiar. It's possible it could be one of the Wardens's. He had seen Neria the night she was captured in Denerim. He didn't quite remember what she was wearing, but this shirt seemed small enough to fit an elven woman.

"It's worth a try," Quinn told the tracker. The tracker knocked as much mud and dirt off the shirt as he could. He held it out for his dog to smell. The dog's tail wagged furiously and he went scurrying off into the woods with his nose to the ground.

"He has a scent, Ser. We should follow him." The tracker followed his dog and Quinn gestured to the templars to follow.

They dog lead them to a cave where they had obviously made a camp. He thought they had their trail now and the shirt was definitely one of theirs.

"This camp is old, Ser," the tracker said. "There are fresh animals tracks over their footprints. They've probably been gone at least several days."

"Then we've got to move fast if we're going to catch up to them. Chances are they're having to stop and hunt and that's going to slow them down. We might catch up to them sooner rather than later." Quinn was optimistic and he really wanted his promotion to be permanent.

The tracker got the dog back on the scent outside the cave and the small army of templars followed.

* * *

_There she was again, the elven mage. She was so small, so delicate, he could crush her with his hands. He would crush her. But not yet. Oh no, not yet. First he had to get her to talk - was it to talk? Or was it to beg? He couldn't remember. He strode across the floor to the chair where she was tied. Her hands bound behind her, her legs tied to the chair. She was proud and silent but that would change. He would have her screaming for mercy or for more, he hadn't decided yet - maybe both. _

_He loomed over her and he could see the apprehension growing in her eyes. This time he took off his gauntlets so he could truly feel her skin. It looked smooth. It was pale where it wasn't flushed. Flushed? Did she desire him? He tipped her head up so her eyes would meet his but she kept them looking down. "Look at me," he said, growling. Slowly her eyes crept up to his, so slowly it felt like they burned tracks against his body. When they finally locked with his he felt her desire in the unspoken challenge in her gaze. That look took control of him as surely as blood magic. "Maleficar," he reminded himself. _

_She controlled his hand, it wasn't him. Maker, no! Not allowed! It seemed to brush her cheek, his hand did, and follow the smooth curve over her jaw and down her neck. She hummed in her throat in obvious pleasure, and his hand ran along the neckline of her blouse. "Yes," she hissed at him. It was her, not him, that made his fingers work so violently on the cords holding her bodice shut. And when he realized he couldn't take her blouse off with her hands tied he - no she made him do it - cut through her blouse. Slit it down the middle and pushed it back so her breasts were exposed. But she was a knife-eared slut and she wore nothing underneath her blouse. It was almost as if she had planned it. She had planned this! Of course, it would take planning to control a templar like himself._

_His excitement pushed him against his armor in a manner most uncomfortable. He stripped off his chest piece, his leggings, his boots, just leaving on the padded clothes he wore underneath. He watched her closely as he removed his armor. She had a small, cat-like smile on her face, barely curving her lips, but her smugness was evident. He needed to erase that look. He knelt beside her and touched her breast. Maker, they were so soft, so perfect and small. The tips were pink. He brushed one with his thumb and it reconfigured itself into a hard knot. Then he put his mouth upon it and the plump feeling of her breast against his lips made him moan loudly. She moaned too. Even more when his teeth grazed her, and when he pulled the knot into his mouth and sucked. Now that cat-like smile was gone and her mouth was a soft O and the challenge in her eyes had softened to wanting._

_"Maker, yes, templar," she said, breathily._

_The dagger in his hand, when did he pick it up? He used it to cut through the waistband of her skirt, then slowly rip through it. He peeled it away from her legs. Of course, she wore no smalls. More proof of her planning. He could smell her arousal. She smelled of the ocean and the forest. He wanted to see her. So he pushed her knees apart, one on either side of the chair and he looked into her, using his fingers to pry and separate so he could see. She squirmed in the chair as his fingers found spots that pleased her. _

_"Yes, there!" she told him. _

_He wanted to please her. No, it wasn't him. It couldn't be him. It was her, controlling him, he reminded himself. How could he fight a maleficar? He conceded defeat, there was no use struggling against this. The Maker would understand that he was the victim here. The oceanic forest before him pulled him. He wanted to touch and taste he pushed a finger within her depths and she met his finger with a push of her hips and his tongue darted to the spot where she had said "Yes, there". She was gasping and twitching and panting and struggling against her bonds and he licked harder with his tongue, enclosing that spot between his lips and sucking._

_"Please..." she gasped, "Please release me."_

_What sort of release she was asking for he wasn't sure but if he wanted his own release, he would have to release her. He let go of her thighs and she cried out a protest, but the dagger was back in his hands and it sawed through the ropes around her feet, then the ones binding her hands. He scooped her up and carried her to the divan. She lay there, looking at him, her breasts swollen with arousal, her thighs glistening. He quickly tugged off his own clothes and lay over her, his knees separating hers and he gasped as she wrapped her tiny hand around him. "Maker, I will hurt her!" he thought considering the difference in their size. She didn't seem concerned though, she guided him into her and slowly worked him inside her. The sweat was pouring off him. He let her take the lead and held himself off was almost more than he could bear. She was so small, so warm, so wet. She moaned as she pushed him further and further inside her, so slowly his mind was unraveling. Her hand reached between them and he saw her rubbing that spot. Then, when he was halfway in, she gave one final thrust up with her hips and he was fully within her._

_"Go slowly," she commanded him._

_He grunted and slowly pulled back from her and then lingered just at her entrance before he thrust himself in, even further than before. She murmured her approval in his ear. Then soon she commanded him to go faster and harder and he did. He was slamming into her, his fingers clenching her shoulders. She was meeting his battering with her own thrusts and her cries were getting louder. Then she uttered a hoarse curse and he felt her tighten around him, her body trembled under his. It was magic and it was pulling him after her. A few more thrusts and..._

She was gone. He lay face down on the divan thrusting against the cushion his erection in his hand and he helplessly spent himself, leaving a mess. He sobbed his frustration along with his release. She had gotten away from him again! She always tortured him, leaving him alone and wanting. He viciously pounded the divan with his fists. That witch! She had done something to him. Something made him see her, believe she was there and real, that she wanted him.

Tavish got up and wiped himself clean. His humiliation couldn't be so easily erased. In brief moments of lucidity he knew the hallucinations were getting worse and more frequent. He was on a half-ration of lyrium while he recuperated from his wound, the one the mage Anders had given him. He only got that much due to his rank and he wouldn't be given a full dose unless he was fully useful again. But in his delirium he blamed her. It wasn't his addiction to lyrium, it was her. He was her thrall and the only way he could be free was to kill her.


	22. Chapter 22

**Note: **_Sorry for the lengthy time between updates. I'm going to try to post shorter segments so at least I'll be updating more frequently._

_...  
_

Anders's eyes opened to a faint rosy light. The force field hummed quietly around them. During the night it had been covered with a thick blanket of snow. Winter comes early to the Frostback Mountains, it would still be fall down the mountain. Anders sat up and lobbed a small fireball into the fire pit in the middle of their magical shelter. The tinder caught fire. It'd be toasty warm inside soon.

He looked over at Neria. She had burrowed into her furs and only a tuft of hair stuck out. He resisted the urge to wake her up the same way she had woken him a few weeks prior. Privacy was once again a rare commodity. The mages could erect a single large force field to shelter all of them but it was taxing. Anders got up and bathed quickly down by the side of the river. Even though he could warm the water it was still colder than a witches tit going in and out. Drying off a misery since they didn't have any proper towels. Anders quickly redressed, putting his clothes back onto half-damp skin. His enchanted fur cloak at least took away the chill, if not the dampness.

The snow that had fallen in the night had blanketed the landscape, changing how everything looked. He climbed to the top of a nearby hill and looked out over the scenery. They were camped in a ravine, a little protected from the cold, but up the hill he had a good view of the countryside as it fell away below. Far off, just out of sight, would be Imperial Highway. They were not terribly far from Orzammar, the pass was close, but the travel was very difficult in the mountains off the road.

In a clearing, near the limit of his vision, he saw a thin trail of smoke rising into the air. He stood atop the hill and watched.

_Hunters? _he wondered. He didn't know of any human settlements in the area. As the sun rose above the horizon it promised to be a clear day. Clear meant cold as there were no clouds to trap any heat. He watched the area with the smoke and then he saw a glint of sunlight off metal. His heart leapt in his chest as his brain jumped to conclusions. 

_Metal? Templars? Okay, that's just my paranoia. It could have been a shiny weapon some hunter would carry. Wait... who hunts with swords? Other than templars? But how could they be tracking us? We destroyed our phylacteries. It can't be. It just can't be._

As if in answer to his unspoken question he heard very faintly, carried on the still morning air, the frenzied barking of dogs.

...

"Neria," he hissed. "Wake up!" He shook her shoulder.

She sat bolt upright, a spell halfway cast in her confused state. "Anders? What is it?"

"Our friends the templars, I think." He had a grimace on his face. Last time they had run into them, he had nearly been impaled, then throttled and he had nearly had to witness Neria being raped in front of him. He didn't think they'd be any more polite this time.

Neria shook her head confused. "No. How? We destroyed..."

"...our phylacteries, yes, but I heard dogs. I think they're tracking us using more conventional methods."

"Are you sure?" She just didn't want to believe it. They'd been off the road for weeks and they were so close to Orzammar. Maybe another ten days and they would be safe. "How far off are they?"

"Pretty far, come look and see if you see it."

She got dressed quickly and followed him up the hillside. In the brighter sunlight they could definitely see the sun glinting off armor but they couldn't see individuals or get any sense of how many. She pushed her hair back in a frustrated gesture.

"We have to beat them to the pass or they can cut us off from Orzammar."

Anders wrapped an arm around her waist, recognizing that the worry she had seemed so free of the last several weeks was coming back. He nudged open the loop and watched her relax. "We have a head start and we're traveling light. I don't think it'll be a problem, do you?"

She smiled at him. "I think you're right. We will be safe, we just need to be careful."

She woke the others and explained the situation to them. They tore down their campsite and carefully erased the signs they had been there. They began trudging towards the pass, through the snow, taking turns erasing their tracks. They would at least make this as difficult on the trackers as they could.


	23. Chapter 23

The Grand Cleric was surprised by a messenger from Orlais, from the Divine. She was handed a letter first and a scroll. She opened the letter and read.

_A decree? _Mother Sweeney slammed the letter down on her desk and swore in a way that would have shocked her fellow Andrastian's. _Orlais! _she fumed. _How dare they interfere!_

Her mind whirled while the messenger waited for a response. She could send him off without a response which would be tantamount to declaring their independence from the Orlais Chantry. But she was nearly out of options anyway. Her military force, the templars, were mostly out of commission. There were several hundred without any lyrium and only a few in Denerim and the Circle Tower with very few supplies remaining. The templars she had sent after the Wardens were getting close to the end of their supply. They had perhaps two weeks left.

The solution was to acquiesce and hope the templars chasing Neria caught her before she could get to Orzammar, or before a messenger could reach them with the news of the decree. It was unlikely a message could reach them within two weeks anyway. She had nothing to lose from sending her affirmation of the decree by the messenger. If the Maker were on her side then it wouldn't matter. Neria and Anders would be dead and at least part of their problem would be solved.

The Grand Cleric turned to the waiting messenger.

"Please tell the Divine that the Grand Cleric has agreed to sign a treaty with the Grey Wardens of Ferelden as she has specified."

The messenger bowed and left. Indeed, he would return to Orlais soon, but first he had another stop.

...

Alistair unrolled the scroll from Orlais. It was a decree from the Divine, the head of the Chantry. He smiled as he read it. She was recommitting the Chantry to the Grey Wardens. She had ordered that every Chantry leader in each country sign a new treaty with the Wardens. At last, this miserable problem would be solved. He and Eamon could write up the new treaty and then Neria could come to Denerim and they could hold the signing here.

He called Eamon over to share the news and get busy. He would send an urgent message to King Harrowmont about the treaty so shipments could resume. The templars in the internment camp in West Hill were rioting and the forces the Grand Cleric had scrounged up to look after them were barely enough to keep them in control. Every now and then he heard stories of unrest amongst the templars in Denerim, apparently word had gotten out about their situation. The Grand Cleric had been playing a dangerous game. If her templars revolted, it could mean her life.

As his last task, Alistair sent out a force to look for Neria. He hadn't been entirely ignorant of the Grand Cleric's efforts to find her. He had a general idea of where she might be, definitely heading to Orzammar but keeping off the roads. They could provide her an escort back to Denerim.

...

Interim Knight-Commander Quinn smiled as he was told they had seen smoke from a fire further up the mountain. His plan was working. They had split the force. Half would wait on the far side of the pass, part was following the Grey Wardens. Sooner or later they would have to return to the road to cross the pass. With them following, the Wardens would flee. If the Maker was with him, they would attempt to race his group to the pass, of course they would win. But half of his force awaited them while the other half would close in on them from behind. The Wardens would be caught in a pincer. In a few days the chase would be over. Not a moment too soon, they were down to their last two weeks of lyrium.

...

The Wardens trudged up the mountain, angling back to the road they had been avoiding for so long. Neria and Anders were casting rejuvenation spells on the group to keep them going. It helped keep everyone's spirits up, the dwarves in particular had had enough of the open sky to last a life time. Neria had actually been enjoying it, until the templars showed up. The freedom felt intoxicating. Having to rely on their wits and abilities to survive was a pleasant change from battling the usual evil. Best of all, she and Anders had grown much closer. Their magical connection was nearly constant now and effortless. They had perfected the ability to cast their spells with stealth through the loop.

"Anders," Neria mused as they climbed, "do you think we could teach other mages how to do stealth magic?"

Anders shrugged. "Maybe, but isn't it our link that allows us to do it? Must it be done in pairs? And this link came about rather mysteriously. Could we form it with other mages?"

She chewed her lip thinking. "We must recruit more mages once all this is settled." She found herself feeling slightly optimistic. The Grand Cleric would have to give in sooner or later once her military was disabled. "We can train them with what we've learned."

Anders walked on, deep in his own thoughts. _Once this is over...what did he want? _The only thing he knew for sure was Neria, he wanted Neria... and Ser Pounce-a-lot_. _He had a picture emblazoned in his mind of the three of them living in a quaint cottage, making love ..._well not Ser Pounce-a-lot. _Perhaps with his herbalism skills he could become a farmer. Farming, that was a lot of work. Perhaps he could dig his field up with magic. Actually no, farming wasn't for him. It was hot, sweaty work. Perhaps they could live in a small village and be healers. That didn't sound so bad. When they weren't healing they could invent new sex magic. But would templars leave them alone if they weren't with the Grey Wardens? _Ah! But we have stealth magic._

_Would Neria even consent to leaving the Wardens? _He didn't think she would. She was committed, far more than he was. It was a decent life, when you weren't in mortal danger of dying. They had free reign, or would, to do whatever magic they wished. Even blood magic. He and Neria had discussed that at great length. She was of the belief blood magic itself was not bad, it was how it was used. Any magic could be used for evil, blood magic was no different. He wasn't comfortable with the idea. Besides, it was messy.

He glanced over at Neria. She was lost in her own thoughts, her forehead was creasing again. She was worried, even though she spoke reassuringly about the templars following them. What if they were caught? Surely this time they wouldn't waste time trying to torture them, they'd probably just kill them straight off rather than risk losing them again. _If they were to die..._ It struck him suddenly from out of the blue. He grasped Neria's hand to stop her in her tracks.

"What?" Neria turned to look at him, her gray eyes flew open wide with surprise.

Anders dropped down to his knee. "I know this is probably unexpected, but I want to marry you." He shook his head, it wasn't coming out right. "I mean, you know I love you. We could die before we get to Orzammar. You remember what I told you about wanting to get married? I really want that, Neria. I want that with you."

Neria smiled, she wore a big grin on her face. He wasn't going to get off that easily. "If I remember rightly you told me you wanted a plump wife and a couple of mistresses," she harrumphed. "Are you trying to tell me I'm fat and you're going to cheat on me?"

Anders grimaced, remembering that comment from long ago. "That was before I fell in love with you, you know that." He wouldn't let go of her hand. "Neria, please. I'm kneeling ... in the snow. Have some mercy!"

She laughed out loud. By now their entire group had turned to watch. "We're mages Anders, no one would recognize our marriage or even perform it."

Anders scowled. "We can be handfasted. We can do it tonight, when we camp. Perhaps in Orzammar we can have a proper wedding."

Neria stood, her mouth slightly open, looking stunned. She had never thought of herself as marrying since it was denied to mages. Yet here was this man who had told her he loved her, who shared a strange, unique link with her. She loved him, she had loved him probably since he had tutored her in healing at the Circle Tower, but she would never have admitted to it. Why shouldn't she marry? Being the Warden-Commander was perhaps one reason. But Wardens did marry. It would probably solve a lot of the issues she had worried about regarding propriety between them and other Grey Wardens. There was no reason not to really.

"Yes, I will marry you," she said. "Now get out of the snow before you freeze!"

Anders gave a loud whoop and scooped her into his arms and spun her around in circles. The rest of the group had stopped and watched. They cheered and congratulated the couple. Dahlia agreed to perform the ceremony that evening. Not as a Chantry Sister, but as a friend doing a handfasting. She had some knowledge of the old-fashioned union.

Zevran hugged Neria. "Amica, I am so happy for you and Anders but what can I get you for a present out here? How about matching bracelets made from bear teeth?"

Neria wrinkled up her nose, "Um, presents are not necessary, Zev." She hugged him. She was happy to see that Sigrun and Zevran had become close. It seemed as if they were always together.

That night they made camp and set up the force field. Before they rolled out their furs for the night they had their handfasting ceremony. They had no wedding clothes, nothing but their worn, tattered clothes they wore each day and the skins for warmth.

Dahlia came to the center of their _tent_, holding strings she had made from a skin she cut up. She gave one string to each of the group, except Anders and Neria. The moon shone full, lighting the ceremony with a pure but gentle white light. Anders and Neria stood before her.

"Know now before you go further, that since your lives have crossed in this life you have formed ties between each other. With full awareness, know that within this...abode you are not only declaring your intent to be handfasted before your friends, but you speak that intent also to your higher powers. The promises made today and the ties that are bound here greatly strengthen your union; they will cross the years and lives of each soul's growth. Do you still seek to enter this ceremony?"

"I do," Neria said.

"As do I," Anders replied.

"This binding is made between two hearts and souls that wish to be together forever. We represent this by binding the hands of the man and woman together." Dahlia took one of the strips she had made and laced it around their intertwined hands. She nodded for each witness to come forward and do the same.

"And so you two are bound together for all eternity before your gods." Dahlia smiled at the pair. "You may kiss each other."

It was a little awkward with their hands tied together but they managed a passionate kiss and their friends erupted in applause and catcalls.

Oghren produced a flask of something not terribly vile from... no one knew where he had been hiding it. He shared it with the other. They got pleasantly buzzed and the night ended on a happy note, although the newlyweds were completely chaste on their wedding night, not having the privacy to celebrate properly.

"I love you, my big, apostate shem," Neria whispered to him.

"Aw!" Anders tweaked her ear. "I love you, my knife-eared maleficar."

They snuggled close and found each other in the Fade where they consummated their marriage properly.


	24. Chapter 24

His face was gaunt now and his fingers visibly trembled when he raised the spoon of soup to his lips. Ser Harrith could see his future painted on the former Knight-Commander Tavish. His very near future, it would seem. His own personal stockpile of lyrium was depleted. He was still getting a full dose from the Chantry, but he knew the reserves were very, very close to being gone. All the money he had made from selling his stockpile would be useless if he were reduced to trembling and hallucinations like Tavish.

It was interesting to watch Tavish's progression. On his half-ration dose he maintained his strength and enough of his sanity he could, if he tried very hard, to look just about normal, except for the gauntness and trembling hands. But Harrith knew well there was insanity lurking behind those cold eyes and he was doing his best to use it to his advantage.

"Iwan," Harrith addressed his former commander informally, "there is only one way for your pain to end..."

"Yes!" Tavish put his spoon down and jumped up, pacing around the room. "I must kill her! I must have her!"

Harrith sighed. Tavish had fixated on the Warden-Commander he was trying to refocus him on a more productive target.

"No, no. Iwan, no. Neria is not important, it is the Grand Cleric who is keeping the lyrium from us."

Tavish looked confused, "The Grand Cleric? But she doesn't haunt my dreams, she doesn't torment me. Neria. The witch. She has done something to me. I see her!" His hands trembled. "I always see her!".

_Oh for the Maker's sake! _Harrith swore. _This repressed fool is obsessed with her. He's never going to let go of this obsession unless he has had her. _Harrith's mouth torqued with a sly smile... _or thinks he has had her._

Harrith sat with Tavish awhile longer, trying to get him to refocus but Tavish's mind was playing in a loop he couldn't budge. He finally gave up and set about looking to find a Neria.

...

"That one should do but she needs to be dressed as a mage." Harrith pointed to an elven prostitute. The elf resembled Neria. Short brown hair, gray eyes. She would probably pass. "She needs a braid in her hair right here," he gestured to her head, right in front of her hair, "and her bangs need to fall in her eyes."

Sanga rolled her eyes. _Templars and their mage fantasies, _she thought, shaking her head_. _It was a common enough request. She directed the mage to go dress up and Sanga collected the fee for a house-call from the templar. She was actually quite grateful to the Chantry, some of her best customers were templars. The very devout made the best customers. They liked Sanga's discretion. A little extra fee ensured a customer needing such discretion could have an assignation made utterly discreet.

"Is there perhaps a mage in particular you want this one to look like," Sanga asked. Harrith was being incredibly picky tonight, he usually was rather easy to please.

"Yesssss... perhaps you know her, the Warden-Commander of the Grey, Neria Surana?"

Sanga's eyebrows lifted. "Indeed! We get the request fairly often, Ser. Should we send... _Neria... _to your address this evening?" she asked.

Harrith nodded. He handed Sanga her payment and left.

If he could resolve this obsession that Tavish had with Neria, he could get him to focus his frustration and rage on the Grand Cleric and perhaps then they could make some headway in getting the lyrium they all desperately needed.

...

The girl showed up promptly. Harrith pulled her inside his apartment and looked her over. She was perfect, or at least perfect enough for an addled templar. She came wrapped in a cloak that fully covered her robes and with a deep cowl that hid her features. _Good thing, the cloak. It's not a good idea to walk around in Denerim looking like Neria Surana, _he thought. The cloak will make it easier to sneak her into Tavish's room. He walked her the few blocks to the templar's compound. Fortunately Tavish had private quarters due to his rank. He got a few curious looks from templars he passed, but most were so deeply indebted to him for lyrium that none made any comment on the visitor.

Harrith knocked at his door and waited until the gaunt looking templar opened it. He looked at Harrith, then the small person wrapped in a cloak next to him, his expression was puzzled.

"What..."

Harrith pushed past him and pulled the girl in after him. "I brought you someone." He pulled back the girl's cowl to reveal her face and took her cloak off.

"Maker's breath..." Tavish breathed, his voice almost reverent, "you found her." He made a noise in his throat that almost sounded like a sob. His eyes devoured her, his hands began to tremble again.

"Um, let's talk privately a moment, Tavish." He pulled Tavish into another room and shut the door. "You have to promise me you won't hurt her. You can... well... lay with her but do not harm her. Promise me?"

Tavish's eyes were glazed. "I promise." _But she's an apostate? Why does Harrith want to protect her? _Tavish's thoughts were confused. He would say anything, _anything, _for this opportunity.

Harrith tried to assess Tavish. Could he trust him? He hoped so. "Okay, I'll be back in a couple of hours. Have fun. Remember... do _**not**_ harm her." Harrith patted Tavish and left.

_Neria_ smiled when Tavish walked back to the setting room. "What do I call you, Ser knight?" she asked.

Tavish's lips were thick and wooden, he could barely make them work. "Iwan."

_Neria_ walked up close to Tavish. She put her hand out and touched his chest. "Iwan. That's a nice name. Very strong, very masculine... like you."

Tavish stood stock still, unable to move. His eyes followed her as she walked in front of him.

"Is this your first time, honey?" _Neria _asked him. She put her hand on his cheek and trailed it down his neck.

"No," he growled. Why was she acting like this? So willing? This wasn't anything like he expected.

"Let's go to your bedroom, Iwan. I always heard such stories about templars in the Tower. My friend said they need both hands to wield their weapons." She giggled and preceded him into his bedroom.

Tavish had a strong sense of wrongness. Her willingness made him angry. Where was the proud, defiant woman he expected?

"You're an apostate," he accused her.

_Neria _laughed. "If you say so, baby." She backed away from the templar in mock fear. "Oh please, Ser, don't take me back to the tower. I'll do anything, _anything! _Please, don't take me back to the tower."

It was wrong. _Wrong!_ Tavish's temper snapped. His hand whipped out and he struck her across the cheek. "What's wrong with you?" he shouted at her.

This time she did shrink away from him and the fear was real. She opened her mouth to scream and he pounced on her, covering her mouth with his big hand. She struggled against him, trying to get away.

_Yes, this is right._ "Apostate, maleficar!" he hissed at her again. "What have you done to me, witch?" He struck her again. All things became right and proper. She was completely under his control finally and this time there would be no escape.

...

Harrith returned as promised. He knocked at Tavish's door. There was no answer. _He must really be enjoying himself, _he thought. He tried the door, fortunately Tavish hadn't locked it. He had to bring the whore back to Sanga as promised, so he let himself in. He heard a low moaning sound coming from the bedroom. _Were they still going at it? _He was impressed with Tavish's endurance if so. He waited for a few moments in the sitting room. Then he realized that moaning wasn't the sort he thought it was.

"Tavish?" he called out.

The moaning didn't stop and Tavish didn't respond. Harrith felt his stomach turn over. He took a few steps to the bedroom and pushed the door open.

"Fucking Maker!" Harrith swore. Tavish was sitting naked on his bed, cradling the bloody body of the whore and moaning.

"I'm sorry, Harrith." Tavish moaned. "She ensorcelled me. She wouldn't remove the spell. I had to..."

"You fucking idiot!" Harrith yelled. "You killed her. You promised you wouldn't harm her."

"I had no choice. It was the only way I could stop loving her. Now I am free." He leaned over and kissed her, smearing the blood on her face with his own.

Harrith felt like his head would explode. _This is going to be me in a few weeks, _he reminded himself. _Unless we can get the lyrium supplies going again. _The thought sobered him. _Maybe now that he thinks she is dead, I can focus him on something else._ He drew a few deep breaths to steady himself to what needed to be done next.

"Okay. Tavish, you need to get cleaned up. I'll take care of this... mess." _Maker, this was going to cost him!_ He wondered how much it would cost to hush this up. Even worse, Sanga was going to think he was the one who had killed her.

Harrith worked all night getting it cleaned up and straightened out. Sanga did indeed charge him a princely sum to make up for the loss of her _Neria _and she did ban him from her whores even after he explained it wasn't him that did it. She no longer trusted him.

He dropped into bed finally, just before the sun came up. When he awoke the next day he went to see Tavish. He was freed of his obsession finally. Harrith shook his head and grimaced. It had cost him a small fortune but perhaps now he could turn Tavish into the weapon he needed.


	25. Chapter 25

Nathaniel had heard the reports weeks ago. The explosion in Denerim had been successful, that much he knew, but where was Neria? Surely she should have been back by now. King Harrowmont's intelligence had reports that the templars were hunting the Grey Wardens, Neria in particular. They were rumors that she had been captured and other rumors were she had escaped.

King Harrowmont himself showed up at Nathaniel's room in the Royal Palace one day.

"Don't get up, lad," he told the Grey Warden. "I've had some interesting news. A large group of templars has been spotted in pass just before Orzammar."

"Maker's breath," Nathaniel swore, "Do you think they're marching on Orzammar?" He didn't think the Chantry would have the audacity to declare war on the dwarves.

The King laughed, "No, I don't think your Chantry is that crazy. It's not exactly an army, perhaps a dozen templar and some scouts and trackers. I'd be willing to wager they're looking for an easier target. Perhaps your compatriots? We haven't heard anything from them since Denerim. Perhaps they're trekking through the mountains to get here."

The King unrolled a detailed map of the area around Orzammar. He pointed at one area on the map. "The only reasonable way to Orzammar is through the pass. It was dug out of pure stone. If you don't go through the pass, you need some serious mountain climbing skills to get through."

Nathaniel looked at the pass. "It looks like the perfect place to cut someone off from Orzammar."

"Aye lad, and it's long and twisty. They could be ambushed easily anywhere along the path."

"How long would it take to get there from here, do you think?" Nathaniel asked.

"A day at a good clip," the King said.

"Then we'd better set out first thing in the morning."

Harrowmont pulled on his beard for a moment. "You've only got two recruits with you. I have no doubt you're fierce warriors but I think you'll be outmatched against a dozen templars. I am going to send some of my guards with you to ensure that the templars don't intend to make any trouble. For Orzammar, of course." The King winked at Nathaniel. "They'll be ready at first bell in the morning."

Nathaniel thanked the King. During the rest of the day he restocked their provisions and got Roth and Dagmar ready to go.

...

They had managed to stay ahead of the templars that were following them and were less than a day from the pass when Dworkin suggested the pass was an excellent place for an ambush. Oghren nodded and Sigrun agreed as well.

"Do we have a choice?" Neria asked. "Is there any other way to Orzammar other than the pass?"

Dworkin frowned. "The reason the pass was made is because it's a steep, sheer climb otherwise. You'd need some serious mountain climbing equipment to go any other way."

"Could the templars behind us be driving us towards a trap within the pass?" Neria asked.

Dworkin nodded. "That's what I would do. I would have split the forces in two, one stays on the road and waits somewhere in the pass. The other would track us. When we get to the pass we might be squished, like an overripe lichen berry, between the two."

Neria bit her lip considering. "Perhaps we should confront this force before we're driven to the pass and have double the amount of templars to deal with. Or at least we can try to slow them down."

Dworkin pulled something out of his pack. "Remember all that lyrium sand you found for me?"

Neria nodded.

"Well, I had enough left to make some bombs. Up ahead we might be able to make a pretty good rockfall that will slow them up some."

"I think Anders and I can make their going a little slower too. Could you rig up a tripwire to set off a bomb? We could leave a nice oil slick on our path and the flames would ignite it."

Dworkin giggled and rubbed his hands together. "Of course!"

They stopped to set their traps, taking the time even though it meant the templars following them would be drawing dangerously close. When they were finished they continued their hike to the road. On the way Neria and Anders iced the path they knew the templars would take. The footing would be dangerous.

It wasn't too long before they heard an explosion behind them and saw a cloud of black smoke rising into the sky. That would be the flaming oil slick. Then there was another blast. That would be the explosion to cause the rockfall. They couldn't see what, if any, mayhem they had wrought. They could only continue their press to the pass.

Neria kept her fingers crossed that they had at least given themselves the breathing room they needed to not get caught with templars on both sides of them in the pass. Or perhaps they'd be very lucky and Dworkin's guess of a waiting templar force would be wrong.

...

_The idiot doesn't even realized he is addicted to lyrium._ Actually, he shouldn't have been surprised, most of the templars don't realize it. They've never really been without it so they don't recognize the symptoms. Certainly the Chantry would never admit there was any issue with giving the templars high doses of lyrium. Harrith shook his head in frustration. Trying to get through to Tavish was trying his patience.

"... so the reason you keep seeing _visions_, Iwan, is because you're not getting enough lyrium," Harrith explained patiently for what seemed like the fiftieth time. "If you were getting a full dose of lyrium your hallucinations would go away, eventually. But because the Grand Cleric is being a stupid git we aren't getting anymore lyrium supplies and we're running out."

Tavish nodded. "Then I didn't really kill Neria? That was just a vision? Or a hallucination?"

_Not this again! _"Neria is dead. It isn't important. The Grand Cleric is important. She is plotting against the templars by taking away the lyrium from us." Perhaps if he simplified the message it would work better. "We have to stop her, Iwan. She's trying to have us all killed."

Harrith droned on and on, repeating his new simplified message. Finally it seemed to be taking hold in Tavish's mind. Tavish might not be exactly a finely-tuned weapon but he might just work and Harrith wouldn't have to risk anything himself. Now he just needed to convince the Revered Mother to allow Tavish to resume his service and be her right hand again.

...

Alistair finally summoned the Grand Cleric, he needed to be certain she was going to comply with the decree from Orlais and find out what steps she was taking to recall the templars she had sent after the Grey Wardens.

"Your Majesty sent for me?" the Grand Cleric said.

The Grand Cleric's skin had taken on an unhealthy hue, Alistair noted. She must be under a lot of stress with most of her templar forces disabled and her archenemy seemingly out-maneuvering her at every turn. Alistair noted her templar guard was reduced to about half of what it normally was. One of the fellows looked rather ragged, barely able to stand at attention, his hands clasped and unclasped at his side.

"Indeed, Revered Mother. I received a copy of the decree from the Divine in Orlais and I wanted to inquire what your intentions are." Alistair did not invite the Revered Mother to sit.

Her mouth puckered a little at the question. The wrinkles that ran vertically around her lips deepened giving her the look of someone who had just sucked on a lemon.

"What a curious question, Your Majesty. Of course I will honor the Divine's request..."

"Decree." Alistair interjected. He wasn't about to let the Grand Cleric believe that she had any option but to obey.

"Semantics!" she snapped back. "Anyway, as I was saying, I have sent a messenger to recall the forces searching for the Grey Wardens."

"Just where exactly are those forces?" Alistair asked.

The Grand Cleric's expression lightened and she lost her lemony look. "I actually have no idea. Last I heard they were tracking them to Orzammar, but they could be anywhere between here and there."

"How large of a force did you send after them?" Alistair asked.

"I believe there were twenty templars and a few trackers."

_Maker's breath! _Alistair swore to himself. _They'd never be able to handle that many. _"Trackers? Why would you need trackers? Don't you have Neria's phylactery?"

The Grand Cleric shifted uncomfortably. "It had been replaced with pig's blood."

Alistair couldn't help the tiny tug at the corner of his mouth.

"So are you telling me you may end up attacking the Grey Wardens even after this decree?"

The Grand Cleric shrugged. "What more can I do? One cannot recall the arrow after it has been released."

Alistair shook his head. "Your actions may get the lyrium cut off permanently, if the King of Orzammar takes offense. King Harrowmont is a great supporter of the Grey Wardens and of Neria Surana in particular."

The Grand Cleric looked nervously at her templar guards. They were inscrutable in their helms. Most of them knew by now, thanks to Harrith spreading the news, why their numbers had been so severely diminished in Denerim.

Alistair noticed the shifting and looks exchanged. He saw one templar nod to another and then ringing of steel on steel as a sword was drawn. Then there was a blood-curdling yell as one templar ran the Grand Cleric through. His blade sunk into her side, passing easily through her gown. The Grand Cleric looked down in surprise at the sword sticking out of her and slowly sank to the floor, blood slowly unspooling from her body.

"She's working for the blood mages!" the templar yelled. "She's trying to get us all killed!" He ranted on and on as the other templars reacted. One quickly unsheathed his weapon and sunk it into an open spot in the other templar's armor. The ranting templar slowly sunk to the ground, his own blood adding to the growing pool.

"Sweet Andraste!" Alistair stared in horror. His guards closed in on the templars. They raised their hands, showing they were no threat. The one templar that struck the one that murdered the Grand Cleric removed his helm.

Harrith bowed to the King. "Your Majesty, I apologize. I feared he would harm you." Harrith glanced down at the templar's body. Tavish had fulfilled his role beautifully.

Alistair gestured to his guards. "It's all right."

It wasn't. It wasn't all right at all. Granted the Grand Cleric had been a royal pain in his ass for months, but now who would replace her and how would they get the treaty signed in the meantime? Alistair ran his hands through his hair and left the audience chamber to find a stiff drink.

...

"It's not that bad, Alistair," Eamon assured him later. "You'll appoint a Revered Mother, one far less zealous, as interim Grand Cleric until the Divine can appoint someone new. We can get the treaty signed now and reaffirmed once the position is filled."

"Now we just need to wait and see if we're going to even have a Grey Warden force left alive," Alistair poured himself another glass of brandy and ate another chunk of stilton.

The two men settled on Mother Hannah, the Revered Mother of Redcliffe Village. She was a solid, sensible woman that Eamon had known for most of his life. She would be a perfect Grand Cleric.


	26. Chapter 26

**Note: **_This chapter earns me the M rating just in case I hadn't earned it before. Here there be very naughty bits._

* * *

They came to the road just short of the start of the pass. The group was quiet, listening for any signs of an imminent attack from ahead and too tense to make idle conversation. The pass was twelve miles long, cut deeply into the mountainside. It would be a good four hours before they got out of the pass. Above them on each side was sheer cliff of rock that had been cut to form the pass, topped by a steep, snow covered mountainside. The dwarves had pointed out some strategic points. The snow was thick above the walls of the pass. It was potentially useful if they could loosen the snow and drop it on their enemies but avalanches and landslides were not unheard of, so the plan could easily backfire.

They heard them before they saw them. This part of the pass was twisty and they couldn't see too far ahead before there was another twist. It was the sound of voices and metal that alerted them. They silently drew weapons. Dworkin reached into his pack for a fire bomb. She and Anders were linked together. They would hold back, try to stay out of range of smites. Neria gave the signal and they rounded the bend and met the templars they had been certain would be waiting.

Dworkin threw a lyrium sand bomb into their midst and the waiting templars were knocked over and scorched. The dwarves lead the charge, being resistant to the templar's smite. Fortunately templar's have little experience fighting dwarves and they wasted some of their anti-magic spells on them. Oghren charged into them sounding like an entire legion unto himself. Dahlia fired arrows with devastating accuracy. The rogues did their best to flank the templars.

Anders and Neria peeped around the corner. Of them all, they were the most helpless against templars. She pointed out a snow bank hanging over the bulk of the templars. A small earthquake spell knocked it loose and it crashed into them. Casting spells from the stealth of their link at least wouldn't alert the templars to their presence immediately. But soon their companions began to sustain injuries and they needed to use the link for purely defensive purposes.

As the fighting progressed they had to emerge from behind the corner and move closer. Someone spotted her and she heard her name screamed. Then it was a matter of a few precious seconds before she and Anders were slammed with a smite. She flew backwards and slammed against the side of the pass, only narrowly missing banging her head into the rock. Her body ached as much from having the mana drained from her as being thrown violently. She looked for Anders. He was only a few feet away, bleeding from a gash in his head, still maintaining the link. She reached out with her dwindling supply of mana and healed him, feeling him guide and shape the spell.

She got to her feet unsteadily and helped Anders up. When she looked back she saw a templar bearing down on them, his sword raised. Neria didn't have enough mana to do anything useful. She looked around for something, anything to defend herself with, and only found a small rock, the size of her fist. She picked it up, knowing it would be utterly useless but flung it at him anyway, aiming for his head. He was nearly upon them when the rock struck. He stopped, took a staggering step and fell.

_Andraste's flaming knickers! _Neria's mouth hung open, shocked that her act of desperation worked, then she saw the arrow sticking out of the back of the neck of the templar. Then she saw the small army of dwarves and a tall familiar figure with them flanking the templars. _Nathaniel? _she wondered.

She heard him bellowing then, demanding the templars surrender. _Yes, it was Nathaniel!_ "Anders, it's Nathaniel!" She squeezed him around his waist.

"Maker's breath," he said softly, "he has some seriously good timing."

They watched the templars throw down their weapons. An officious looking dwarf strode into the center of the templars and frowned.

"By the order of King Harrowmont, you will not conduct your aggressions against the Grey Wardens within our territory, and this pass falls within our boundaries."

Neria pushed and shoved her way through the milling crowd until she could reach Nathaniel.

"Commander!" he shouted. He dropped his usual serious demeanor and lifted her into a big hug. "We found you in time! I was so worried."

Neria laughed, she was just so happy to finally have them all safe. "You almost didn't. There's another group of templars behind us. They were trying to squeeze us between them."

The dwarves tied up the templars. Anders went through some of their packs until he found a few vials of lyrium. He handed one to Neria. She swallowed it gratefully, feeling the hollowness within her dissipating. He swallowed his own.

Neria talked to the dwarf leading the Orzammar contingent. She explained that another force would be coming along soon. He and his dwarves would wait for them and take them into custody too. He thought they wouldn't need the Grey Wardens's help for that, they could go on ahead to Orzammar.

She and Anders looked after the injuries. Fortunately no one had been seriously injured, other than templars, and they resumed their walk to Orzammar. It took them another day of walking but Orzammar never looked so wonderful when they reached it. Beds, hot running water, proper meals, booze, and clothes, not made out of animal furs and skins, awaited them.

The Grey Wardens were housed again in the Royal Palace. Neria and Anders took a long bath and fell into bed exhausted from their trek. It was two days before they emerged from their room.

* * *

King Harrowmont listened raptly to their description of their journey and the destruction of the lyrium warehouse. Of course, officially he knew nothing about it, but it didn't stop him from listening to the details gleefully.

"We caught seventeen templars. The group behind you had five more," he told them.

"Really? They probably had more than that. But we whittled them down some," Neria said. She explained about the bombs and other tricks they'd used to slow them down. They must have been much more effective than they'd guessed.

"Have you heard anything from Denerim?" Neria asked.

Harrowmont shrugged. "Oh sure, we got a number of protests and threats from Denerim and the Chantry, such as retaliatory embargoes, but we ignored them."

The news from above ground is interesting to say the least. Most of the templars have disappeared from the cities. Word has it they're being held in an internment camp and they're all going quite mad."

Part of Neria wanted to smile. Obviously their plan had worked exquisitely, with a few bobbles here and there. But part of her felt sorry for the templars. They were part of a system that enslaved men by a hideous addiction, caged mages and made the populace fear and hate them, and of course, made second-class citizens out of elves. _Was this really what Andraste wanted? _she wondered. She was convinced that Andraste would probably be horrified by what the Chantry had become.

"Sire, there's a question I have for you."

"Of course, lass."

"Above ground, mages are not allowed to marry. I was wondering if perhaps Anders and I might be married in Orzammar?"

King Harrowmont's face creased with a smile. "I would be more than pleased to see you wedded here. I'll give you the wedding I would give my daughter, if I had one." His face flushed a little. "I've always thought of you as a daughter."

Neria couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around King Harrowmont and gave him a big hug. "Thanks, Da." She giggled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I'd have been proud to have been your daughter."

King Harrowmont was true to his word. In a short amount of time he had a royal wedding put together. Neria even had a dwarven wedding dress, handmade just for her. Anders was dressed in traditional garb too. They were coached on the intricacies of dwarven wedding customs. The guest list included most of the most important citizens in Orzammar and an honor guard. The King played the part of her father in the ceremony and gave her away to Anders. The Grey Wardens were all dressed in their finest armor and saluted her as she walked down the aisle with the King.

The party afterward was just as elaborate and lavish as the ceremony. Neria and Anders truly felt like royalty. After a few hours it devolved into a raucous celebration and the couple slipped away.

Anders swept Neria up, into his arms and clumsily opened the door to their room, nearly dropping her in the process. The yards and yards of pale gray fabric almost tripped him as he tried to navigate his way into their room. The cascade of tiny white flowers in her chestnut hair tickled against his nose.

"By the stone, Anders! Don't drop me," She giggled into his neck.

"Listen to you, cursing like a dwarf now. What happened to _Maker's breath_ and _Andraste's flaming britches_?"

Neria harrumphed. "I don't want to give that much credence to the Chantry to dignify them with curses. I'm liking the dwarves ancestor worship better. I'm going to have Oghren teach me all his best curses."

Anders set Neria back on her feet next to the bed and groaned. "Oh great, I thought I was marrying an elf, not a dwarf!" He poked her in her side and she writhed with ticklishness. "Just don't start smelling like Oghren."

The turned and looked at the bed.

"Isn't that a beautiful sight?" Neria whispered. "A soft bed, with blankets." She sighed. "Even during the blight it wasn't as rough as we had it on our trip to Orzammar. We had tents, bedrolls, supplies, and proper clothes."

Anders nodded. "I will never take a bed for granted again."

"Only one thing could improve it..."

"What? What could improve a bed in the Royal Palace of Orzammar?" Anders asked.

"My husband on it. Naked," Neria told him and began unlacing his doublet.

Anders growled in his throat and whirled Neria around so her back was to him. "Ladies first, my wife."

"Wife!" Neria said. "That sounds rather nice."

"Naked wife sounds even better." Anders unlaced Neria from her gown and it fell with a whoosh to the ground, in a pile of shimmering, pale gray. She stepped out of it. Anders picked up the gown and laid it carefully over a chair.

Neria stood before him, dressed in a white corset. Pale stockings were fastened at her thighs with garters. Even her smalls were made of some silky, filmy fabric. Her hair was still coiffured in delicate ringlets with a spray of white flowers. Anders's eyes glowed with desire. They had been back in Orzammar a week now but the first several days they'd done nothing but sleep and eat, recuperating from the trek they made.

"By the sodding stone," Anders whispered looking raptly at Neria. He hugged her closely to his chest, his hands ran down her body feeling the smooth silk of her undergarments and the delicious form they barely concealed. Her breasts were pushed into charming hillocks by the corset, their nipples barely contained in the bone and fabric cage. His hand fell to the bottom of her corset and yanked it down, causing her breasts to pop free. Her nipples peeped provocatively over the top, forced up over the top of the corset. Neria was arrested by the sight. Her breasts were modest, to be honest, but pushed up as they were they looked much more generous.

"That's much better," he said smirking at her.

Neria's fingers went back to work on his doublet. She quickly divested him of the black brocade and the light tunic he wore underneath. Then her fingers traveled down his bare chest, twining in the light dusting of golden blond hair on his chest. She saw that the fit of his already tight trousers was becoming even snugger. She ran the V between her fingers over his bulge. Anders growled at her and pressed her head back with his lips on hers. He pressed a long, wet kiss to her mouth. She moaned when he pulled away and he whispered, "You are mine. All mine."

His fingers tightened on her waist. She had forgotten how strong he was but was reminded when he spun her around and crushed her back into his chest. His lips went to her ears and nibbled the elegant points. "These are mine too." His tongue traced the shell of her ear, making her grind her behind into him. His fingers found the tips of her breasts and teased them. His fingers cradled her breasts and his thumbs slid across the nipples. She forced herself back against his chest, thrusting her breasts into his hands. "And these..." he said, his light touches turning to pinches.

"Anders," she whimpered. His declaration of ownership sent a trembling weakness into her legs. Her breath came in pants, partly because the corset restricted her from gaining a deep breath, partly because it made her breasts heave fetchingly.

"And most of all," Anders breathed into her ear, "this. This is mine." One hand splayed along her belly, possessively. His other hand traveled down her waist to the top of her hip. His hand burrowed into her silky smalls and cupped her sex. She shivered against him. His finger slid along her sex, feeling the dampness collecting there. He rubbed lightly around, but not quite touching the bundle of nerves. She growled and thrust against his hand, trying to gain more contact. He laughed, his voice low, rumbling near her ear.

She unlaced her corset. She loved how it made her look but she loved breathing too. She tossed it to the side. Anders picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently. He peeled off her smalls and slowly rolled down the stockings she wore. Then he stood and looked at his wife, deliciously arranged on the bed before him. He groaned and kissed her legs starting with her delicate ankle, the backs of her knees, then the inside of her thighs. She gripped his scalp as he settled between her thighs with his tongue slipping through her slickened folds, still teasing her.

"Anders!" Neria cried out, wiggling under him.

"Hm?"

"Anders, more!" she grunted out of frustration.

"Settle..." he warned her, removing his mouth until she calmed herself, though she didn't stop making the soft whimpering sounds. When she had quieted sufficiently he went back to work with his teasing ways.

Neria tried to stay relaxed and not bounce her hips in response to his tormenting, but schooling herself to stillness was nearly as much torture. She wanted more contact, _more_... The thought trailed off when she felt his finger at her entrance, adding to the teasing. She gave a low guttural moan and her hips flexed unconsciously trying to impale herself on it. His free hand went to her stomach and pressed down, reminding her to be still. When she stilled again he resumed only this time giving her _more_. His finger went into her, his tongue finally flicked against her nub and she tried hard to stay still. Then the small electrical bolt went through her and she was undone. She arched her back and let out a breathy "Oh!" with her release, her thighs tightened around his shoulders and she seemed frozen for a moment, held in place by the intensity of her climax.

When she finally stopped shuddering and her muscles unlocked she urged Anders up by pulling on his hair. He kissed her and she tasted her own arousal on his lips. She brushed her hand along his jaw, feeling the stubble, and stared happily into his eyes.

"This is better than Fade sex, by quite a lot," Neria said.

Anders nodded recalling waking up feeling painfully aroused and unrelieved by nights they had spent together in the Fade along their journey. It was fun and they could do crazy things in the Fade they couldn't do in reality, but it always left them aching for the real thing.

Neria kissed Anders neck and stomach and finally unlaced his trousers. She yanked them off, along with his smalls and her small hand wrapped around his length. She licked a broad stripe up the length of his member and then took him in her mouth. Anders groaned and cursed softly watching her mouth take him. Her tongue swirled around him and she sucked so that her cheeks hollowed. Her hand around his base flared with the same tainted healing spell he had used on her so many times. Anders couldn't refrain from rocking his hips, the tainted healing spell nearly pushed him over the edge.

"Maker!" he cursed. "Stop. Stop. Stop!" He pulled her head away from his loins.

She wore a mischievous smile. "Is there a problem, husband?" she asked as she crawled up to lay atop him, chest to chest. Her elaborate coif was half unwound. Ringlets fell free, and tickled against his face and the spray of flowers was starting to lose it's blossoms all over the bed. She looked decadent and debauched, like a wanton noble lady.

"No problem, buttercup, it's just that I had planned something else." He pulled her to him for another kiss, his tongue plunging past hers and hinting at what was coming next. He felt her mouth turn up in a smile.

"Do demonstrate then," she murmured against his lips.

He gripped her to him and rolled over so that she was underneath him. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. He lifted her knees and brought them to either side of him and she felt him at her entrance.

"Mmmmm", she made an approving noise. This was certainly going in the direction she wished. He slowly impaled her, taking his time, watching her face become rapturous. When he was fully inside her, she felt him growing both longer and wider.

"Wha... oh... fuck," she stuttered. "Anders? How?"

He chuckled evilly, enjoying her shock. Then he lifted one leg and scooched her legs over, between his so her legs were straight and his were outside hers. It was an interesting position, one that required a certain extra length. He moved slowly at first, getting the hang of the new position and letting her adjust to his new girth.

Neria hissed with the intensity of the pleasure. There was friction and fullness everywhere she wanted it most. "Oh, Make... Ancestors!" she cried out, thrusting in counterpoint to his thrusts. Her nails raked his back. She would have added magic to her touch but she couldn't trust herself to focus.

Anders let out a growl of approval followed by a string of curses. Neria's obvious pleasure was fueling his own. She watched her mouth form into an O and then squash into a hiss and then burst with a strong fricative consonant. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

"Look at me, wife," Anders told her.

Neria half-opened her eyes, they were glazed with pleasure. "I can't hold on, Anders. I can't..."

He felt her tighten around him and then he poured the tainted healing magic into both of them and she seemed to scream without sound, only a thin, high wail escaped her gasping mouth.

She felt him swell within her and his thrusts lost their rhythm. His arms strained and he threw his head back, a roar bursting from his throat and the tendons in his neck grew taut. Once, twice, then a final time he thrust into her and stilled, but for his trembling arms.

Neria wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down for a trembling kiss. Anders drew one of the ringlets from her now completely destroyed coif around his finger and kissed her eyes.

"That was the best wedding gift ever, Anders," she told him.

He rolled off her, relieving her of his weight. "Did you like my little growth spell?"

Neria chuckled. "Oh yes, I think it's safe to say I did." She puzzled at him a moment. "When did you learn to do that?"

"I picked it up from Velanna, although she didn't use it quite the same way I did. It's supposed to work only on plants, but I've been tinkering with it."

"You're going to have to teach me that spell!"

Anders promised he would.

He pulled her into his chest and rested his chin on top of her head, his arm wrapped around her waist. After all they had been through over the last many weeks, he could have been content to stay in Orzammar permanently. Here no one minded mages. Templars were not allowed, and they were honored guests of the King's. He had gotten used to the fact he was underground and the sky and sun were missing. This was the peace and contentment he had been longing for since... well, since his first attempted escape from the Circle Tower.


	27. Chapter 27

**Note: **_I'm playing through DA yet again and I noticed how Alistair says he thought the Grand Cleric nearly had him and Duncan arrested for Duncan's conscription of Alistair. I found that interesting, given my idea that she is a zealot. :) Oh! And I found out the Grand Cleric's name during the game is Elemena, and she's deaf, and they refer to her as "Her Grace". Oh well. Details!_

_The newlyweds have their first fight._

...

Two days after their wedding Neria and Anders were awoken very early by a loud knocking. Neria answered the door, clutching a robe around herself, her eyes barely focusing.

"Wha?" She leaned sleepily against the door frame and took the message delivered to her.

"The King of Ferelden's messenger is awaiting a reply, Warden-Commander," the dwarven messenger told her.

Neria stifled a big yawn. "All right, wait outside a moment and let me read this." She shut the door and sat down on the side of the bed to read the message.

"What is it, buttercup?" Anders asked her.

"A message from Alistair," she said. She grimaced. "Bastard." Then she realized it was true in more ways than one. "Literally and figuratively." She broke open the seal and conjured a light to read by.

"Blah, blah... Warden-Commander Neria Surana... blah, blah, blah..." Neria read, skipping over the formal greeting and other nonsense, "The Grand Cleric of Denerim has agreed to sign a treaty with the Grey Wardens and will meet conditions you have outlined. We merely ask for the deliveries of lyrium to resume immediately...

There is an escort accompanying this messenger to escort you to Denerim with due haste..."

Neria looked up at Anders and smiled broadly. "I think we won!" She wrapped her arms around him laughing. "Ancestors! Is this finally over?"

Anders snatched the message away from her and read it himself. "Could it be a trap? Alistair hasn't exactly been a stalwart defender for us."

Neria shook her head. "I really don't think so. He would not do that." She stood up and went to the door to speak to the waiting dwarf. "Tell the messenger we will return to Denerim with them tomorrow." She shut the door and sat back down on the bed. Anders sat back on the bed and pulled her up between his legs, her back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her.

"I rather like it here. I'm not sure I want to leave," he confessed.

"It does feel safe and comfortable. We're far from the Chantry here," she said. She tilted her head back to look at him. "But we're Grey Wardens."

He laughed at her. "Yeah, we don't do safe and comfortable, do we?"

She chewed her lip for a moment thinking. "If it is a trap, not saying it is, but it doesn't hurt to be suspicious, then perhaps we shouldn't all go to Denerim."

Anders nodded. "Good idea. Send Nathaniel and some of the others to Amaranthine?"

"Yes," Neria looked at Anders cautiously, "and you."

Anders looked at her sternly. "You didn't just say that."

"Sweetheart, we're the only two mages, if something happens to us both then the Grey Wardens will be without any mages again."

"No, it's out of the question. If it is a trap then we'll need to be linked to stealth cast and get out of it."

"Anders," Neria's jaw set stubbornly, "If it is a trap, then we're probably done for. Besides, this is pointless. Alistair wouldn't do that. Even if he has been acting like a completely fool, he just wouldn't do that."

"The Grand Cleric would though." Anders eyes looked implacable.

_I am a sodding idiot for mentioning the word "trap", _Neria thought, cursing her foolish choice of words. "Anders, sweetheart, please... just go with Nathaniel."

"No."

"Are you going to make me order you?" Neria pulled away from him, scrambling off the bed but Anders clamped his hand around her wrist and pulled her back. He pinned her against the mattress.

"Look, I'm not going leave you alone again with those Chantry crazies, so you can bloody well stuff your orders." His eyes flashed at her angrily.

"That's insubordination, Anders! I could have you flogged!" Neria hissed at him.

"Try it," he taunted her. His mouth crashed down on hers in a wet, violent kiss. Her lips bruised under his teeth. She squirmed under him, trying to get free. His mouth finally released hers and went to her neck instead.

"Anders!" she said angrily, "This isn't going to change a thing."

But then it did change things when his teeth sunk into her neck where it met her shoulder. Just a moment of sweet pain, followed by his mouth sucking the sensitive spot. Her anger changed in a flash to burning need, and that made her angry anew. She sank her own teeth into the meaty part of his shoulder. He jerked in response and his breath hissed against her neck. His mouth pulled away from her neck with a wet, sucking sound and found her lips again. This time their tongues battled for dominance until Neria delivered a sharp bite on Anders bottom lip. He let go of her wrists and tried to drag her nightdress off her shoulders. She struggled under his bulk, levered a hip up and nearly managed to dislodge him from atop her, but he recaptured her wrists and pinned them with one hand above her head. His other hand went to the bottom of her nightdress and he hiked it up, above her breasts, leaving her fully exposed to him. She saw his eyes burning with desire, something far more feral than she'd ever seen before.

"I'm not going to risk losing you again," he said, his voice unusually gruff.

His free hand closed on one breast and his mouth went over the other. He sucked on her nipple hard, hurting her. She tried to pull away from him then he let up. The after-effect of the pain was an exquisite sensitivity. When he licked it a moment later she gasped at the excess of feeling. He repeated the process with the other nipple and she writhed this time with something other than the desire to escape.

Anders looked at her. He was mentally kicking himself for being so rough with her. _What if it reminded her of what had happened with the templars?_ _But, Maker's Breath, her face!_ She looked enraptured, so he continued. He continued sucking her tender nipples and drove a knee between her thighs, he could feel her arousal on his knee, especially when her hips bucked against him.

"Anders," she gasped, "I need you."

"Do you now?" he answered coolly. He pressed his thigh against her center and she surged up against him with a strangled cry.

"Please, Anders. Now."

"Am I going to Denerim with you?"

She moaned knowing she was defeated. A tiny portion of her mind, that was still functioning, knew it would be cruel to send him with Nathaniel. He was worried about her and didn't want a replay of when she was taken by the templars and he didn't know where she was.

"Yes, dammit."

He let go of her wrists, trusting now she wouldn't try to get away. He drove himself into her with a hoarse yell. With her legs wrapped around his waist his head sank down to her breasts again. He alternated hard, painful suction with tender licks and she gasped under him. He pulled out of her slowly each time and then thrust quickly, until he could not stand the slow pace any longer. Her hips rose to meet him at every thrust. Her fingers sunk into his backside, her fingernails scratching at him. He was close, very close. He gripped her breasts in both hands, supporting himself on his elbows, and let his tainted healing magic flow into her.

Neria's back arched off the bed and she uttered a string of curses as she came, her fingernails scraping parallel tracks across his back. When her warm slick channel contracted around him it caused his own release and he pounded into her a few more times then his head snapped back.

"Neria!" he roared, his seed releasing into her. His arms gave out and he collapsed on top of her, too boneless to move.

"Oof," she said, her voice muffled by his big chest pressing against her face.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized, rolling off her. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. "I'm sorry, buttercup. I just can't let you go back to Denerim without me." He smoothed her hair away from her face. "If anything happened to you, and I wasn't there, it would kill me."

She nodded, her eyes looking into his. "I understand. I was thinking as a Grey Warden, not a wife. But sometimes I have to be a Grey Warden first, Anders."

"Not this time. Not in Denerim. Not after everything that has happened there."

"Not this time," she agreed.

"Was... that too rough?" he asked.

A little smile crossed Neria's lips. "I rather liked it."

"I'm relieved. I thought perhaps it might have reminded you of less pleasant... things."

"You know I could have stopped you. Paralysis, sleep, or I could have turned you into a icicle."

"Good," he said.

"We should get up," Neria said languidly burrowing deeper against Anders's chest.

"Mmmm," Anders murmured sleepily.

Moments later neither of them were awake.


	28. Chapter 28

**Note: **_Hurlocks ambushed my hard disk this week! What a pain in the patoot to recover from that! Thanks everyone for the reviews!_

Sigrun, Oghren and Zevran all agreed to go to Denerim with Neria and Anders. The rest she assigned to take the Deep Roads to Kal'Hirol and from there, travel overland to the Keep. The Deep Roads had been cleared weeks earlier and traveling by the Deep Roads would make travel much faster. King Harrowmont was sending a large escort of his own with her to Denerim, along with a wagon load of lyrium. The templars that had been captured would be returned to Denerim after he had a copy of the signed treaty in his hands. He also promised to send financial aid to Amaranthine. He wanted the Grey Wardens to rebuild, especially since they proved to be such excellent allies to him and were instrumental to recovering a lost Thaig.

"Nathaniel." Neria gestured to her second the morning, just before leaving Orzammar. She wanted to have a quiet word with him. She didn't quite know how to approach the topic with him, it was likely to be sensitive. Dahlia had betrayed him twice, but he needed to let go of his resentment and help her fit into with the other Wardens. At best, Nathaniel had been aloof. "Nate, Dahlia can leave if she wants to. I told her she doesn't have to stay, but I think she wants to."

Nathaniel's lips compressed into a line, reflecting his irritation. "Very well, commander."

Neria chewed her lip. "I don't think she quite knows where she fits in. We need to make her feel welcome."

"Of course she's having a hard time fitting in, she keeps betraying us."

Neria frowned. "Don't forget she saved Anders and me. We would have died but for her. Nate, they were... doing horrible things to us." She sighed, wondering if she could get past Nathaniel's obstinacy. "She tried to be a Chantry sister but they used her as a spy, a life she was trying to escape from. She had conflicting loyalties but when she saw how we were being tortured, she was able to make the break."

Nathaniel grimaced. "Fine, I understand. But what do you want me to do?"

"Just help her feel a part of the group." Neria smiled at him. "Have a good trip, Nate. I'll see you at the Vigil soon, I hope." She clasped his hand warmly and left to join the rest of the group heading to Denerim.

...

Dahlia didn't fit anywhere. She couldn't be a Chantry sister, she didn't want to be a bard, and now she was, involuntarily, a Grey Warden, and everyone avoided her. Well, Nathaniel avoided her. Neria and Anders actually went out of their way to talk to her and include her, but they had been rather absorbed in being newly married and hardly anyone had seen them outside their rooms for the last week. When she heard she was going to have to repeat the trip to Kal'Hirol she felt utterly dejected. No one trusted her and she didn't blame them. So when Nathaniel pulled her aside before they left she was anticipating at the very least a stern lecture or a reminder of her prior betrayals.

"Dahlia," Nathaniel spoke quietly to her, "I think I owe you an apology."

She furrowed her brow at his comment. _Why on earth is he apologizing? _"Why?" she asked.

"I've been holding a grudge against you and you've more than redeemed yourself by rescuing the Commander and Anders." Nathaniel shifted nervously. Apologizing wasn't his forte. Now that he was talking to her and not just glowering at her from a distance, he could see her sadness and discomfort. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed with a friendly, reassuring grip.

"If anyone should understand the need for redemption, it should be me," he confessed to her. "What I did was every bit as bad as what you did, maybe worse." He shrugged, his pale cheeks going a bit pink with embarrassment at the memory. "I ... tried to kill the commander."

Dahlia's mouth dropped open at the confession. "You did?" Her head tilted, looking at him with a puzzled expression. "And now you're her second-in-command?"

Nathaniel shrugged, a small smile played over his mouth. "Yes, well, the Commander is a forgiving woman, as you've found out. We're not the first she's absolved either. Zevran tried to kill her too."

"Does she always inspire such loyalty from people who formerly hated her? Maybe she and the Grand Cleric will end up best friends."

Nathaniel laughed. "I don't think... Not the Grand Cleric. No. Too much bad blood there now." The thought was very amusing though. "She's not exactly all rainbows and kittens though. She's had to make some pretty hard decisions and... well, sometimes people die." He smiled a genuine smile at Dahlia, the resentment he'd held for her had finally dissipated since he realized he had something in common with her. There was more too, he remembered to look at her and now that he could see past her betrayal, he saw the attractive woman again: the fallen Chantry sister with long, blond hair, pouty lips and blue eyes.

He surprised her. She was expecting him to be severe, brooding, unforgiving and yet he had forgiven her and even shared his own shameful confession with her. Her heart lifted and she reached out to grasp his hand and squeezed it briefly, in friendship. "Thank you, Nathaniel." She shouldered her pack and walked with him to join the others.

...

It hadn't gotten any warmer in the two weeks they spent in Orzammar, in fact it had gotten much colder. But now the Wardens weren't dressed in rags and animal skins. King Harrowmont had outfitted them very nicely, even making Neria and Anders a number of new robes. They had adopted a style of robe that was imminently practical for riding and still looked rather dashing. The robe was actually more like a coat, fitting close to the body though the waist, then it was cut away leaving the legs free to straddle a horse, or stride purposefully. And striding purposefully was what they were doing now, since dwarves didn't keep horses they were walking to Denerim. Neria was also draped in a very soft fur coat.

It took them three weeks at a steady pace to get to Denerim. Neria was glad the trip was over. She longed to return to the Vigil and some semblance of normality. She wanted to wake up in her own bed with Anders. She wanted to talk to Varel and Captain Garavel, turn her attention to recruiting and training Grey Wardens and returning the Arling to profitability. This nonsense needed to be over.

Alistair met her an hour outside of Denerim, accompanied by his own royal guards. Her stomach was filled with butterflies as she watched his guard come closer. The numbers favored the dwarves but not by much. At least there weren't any templars with them. The captain of the dwarves called a halt. His men stood ready but without drawn arms. They waited until Alistair's escort closed the distance. They stopped a short ways off. Alistair separated from them, walking towards their group. Neria drew a deep breath and stepped away from the dwarves to meet him halfway.

"Your majesty," Neria said, making a small curtsy.

"Neria." Alistair regarded her his face serious. "I'm glad to see you." He shifted uncomfortably. "Are you... all right?"

She blinked slowly, trying to suppress an urge to launch a lightning bolt at him. "Yes, Your Majesty, I am fine. King Harrowmont has proven once again that he is a friend to the Wardens."

Alistair nearly flinched at the implication that Harrowmont cared more for the Wardens than he did. Neria's cold formality also stung.

"Neria, I..." he began.

"Your Majesty, we still have a ways to go and I'm certain there will be plenty of time to talk once we're in Denerim and have had a chance to rest." Neria effectively cut off the conversation. She bowed again and walked back to the dwarven contingent. They talked briefly. The wagon full of lyrium would remain behind, heavily guarded, and the rest would proceed to Denerim. Once the treaty was signed, Neria would report back to them and they could go to Denerim.

Alistair watched her a moment, his lips pursed, then he turned and walked back to his own troops.

Anders looked down at her, smiling. "It looked like you cast a frost spell on Alistair."

Neria smiled up at him. "I suppose I wasn't exactly warm with him."

They arrived at Denerim and were taken to the palace.

"No templars," Anders noted.

"Hm, I dare say you're right," Neria replied. The observation let her relax somewhat. If Harrowmont was right, most of the templars were in an internment camp. They were shown to their rooms and their dwarven guards setup a watch outside their rooms.

"This is crazy, Anders," Neria complained. "I feel like an ambassador from a hostile nation with this armed guard."

"Well, if you think about it, it isn't so crazy. You are representing Orzammar to some extent and the trade embargo certainly has made things somewhat hostile. Let's not forget the templars invading Orzammar's territory."

"But Alistair wouldn't betray me," Neria's face set stubbornly.

"Are you so certain he'd protect you against the Chantry though? Hasn't he already proven he won't if it endangers his political power?"

Neria sighed and threw herself down on their bed. "I suppose you're right." Anders laid down on the bed next to her and she buried her face in his neck. "I just want to go home," she mumbled into his neck. "With my husband," she added. She pulled away from him and smiled at him. "Just think, you're going to be married to an Arlessa, sort of."

"Sort of?" he asked.

"Well, it's not the same really. The arling isn't passed along through inheritance but is governed by the next Warden-Commander. I suppose that will fall to Nathaniel if I nip off before he does. Or maybe I could just... abdicate?" she mused.

"Are you crazy? After our struggle against the Chantry, you can't just step down. You have a lot to prove to the world. That you can be an elf, a mage and be a respected leader and even the savior of the country?" Anders sounded peeved with her notion.

"Bleargh. I'm just tired, Anders. Tired of the struggle and the responsibility. It gets to be a bit much, having to represent so many marginalized groups. Is it so wrong for me to want to be just Neria with her delicious new husband? I feel positively domestic right now. I want to have a small cottage in the country. I will cook for you, bake your bread and mend your socks."

Anders laughed. "Do you even know how to cook?"

"I see, you don't like my cooking do you?" she pouted.

"I never said that, mainly because I've never had your cooking."

"Probably because I never have cooked," she admitted. "I do well lighting the stove, though."

"I have an idea, buttercup." Anders wrapped his arms around her and pulled him to her chest. "We'll take a vacation. Perhaps to the coast. When it is warmer. We can rent a cottage and try the domestic thing. Let's do that before you decide it's what you really want."

"Okay, deal." She shut up and concentrated on listening to Anders heart beating. It was only a few minutes before she fell asleep.


	29. Chapter 29

Alistair sent a servant to get a hot bath ready for Neria. He sent another servant to look after the needs of the other Wardens.

_Maker! She was angry, _Alistair thought. _Was it justified? Perhaps..._ but Neria had been rash and careless. He couldn't rescue her every time she did something crazy. Well, he would need to talk to her before they met formally. If he could mend this rift, he would.

Alistair settled back into the chair before his desk. It was a little early to start drinking but truthfully, it wouldn't hurt to take the edge off before he talked with her. He poured himself a couple of fingers of brandy and cut off a hunk of South Reach Stilton. The sharp, pungent cheese was excellent paired with brandy. Speaking of pears... someone had brought him a basket of pears from Antiva where, apparently, they could grow them in mid-winter. He closed his eyes, trying to push his anxiety aside and concentrate on the fine food and drink.

"Ah, Royal Highness, I hope I'm not disrupting your repast," Zevran said.

Alistair did choke this time, accidentally inhaling a piece of cheese. "Maker!" he gasped, coughing, trying to dislodge the cheese from his windpipe.

"Allow me, Highness," Zevran offered. He walked around behind the King and slapped him sharply between the shoulder blades. A piece of cheese, shimmering with royal saliva, flew across the room. "Better?"

Alistair's face was bright red and his eyes were tearing from the choking incident. "Zevran, I warned you about sneaking up on me. Next time, I'll call the guards."

Zevran shrugged. "And here I thought I was doing you a favor. I thought perhaps you might like to find out what your Warden friend has been up to since we last talked. Forewarned is forearmed, as the saying goes."

Alistair's eyes narrowed, why was Zevran telling him this? Since when had Zevran been looking out for Alistair's interests, except when paid to?

"Do not flatter yourself, Alistair, I'm not here for you." Zevran guessed what was running through his head. "I'm here because I know Neria won't tell you, and that would be a shame."

"Tell me what?" Alistair asked.

"Remember when I came to you asking for your help to get Neria away from the Chantry? I mentioned she was being beaten. What I did not know then was that she was raped as well. By a templar."

Alistair closed his eyes. "By a templar?" he said, the words nearly strangling in his throat.

"I suppose if you didn't care that she was being beaten then the rape would not have made much difference," Zevran said coldly. "They were going to kill her."

Alistair groaned and pressed his fingers against his forehead. "I didn't know."

"You knew enough and you chose to do nothing. So if you find Neria a little cold, I think you'll understand why."

The man before Zevran looked up, looking defeated. "What else do I need to know?"

"They captured her a second time, along with her husband. They were both brutally beaten. Anders was nearly slain and Neria was almost raped a second time, all in the name of extracting a confession from her."

Alistair sat up straighter. "Husband?" he said. "She married... oh, the other mage?"

Zevran smiled sardonically. "Yes, they were married in Orzammar. King Harrowmont saw they had a splendid wedding. Apparently there's no rules against mages marrying there." He laughed. "You should hear her swearing now, she sounds just like Oghren. I think she's decided to become a dwarf. King Harrowmont calls her his adopted daughter. She, of course, is deeply indebted to Harrowmont for rescuing us from the templars that ambushed us just outside of Orzammar and assisting her with her Chantry difficulties."

Alistair didn't know what to say. Certainly from their perspective he had been less than useless. He didn't know if he could get Neria to see it from his point of view. Certainly Zevran never would. That King Harrowmont had become so close to Neria, had done so much for her, hurt. He, her friend, had done so little in comparison. But still, his hands had been tied. The Chantry had so much influence in the land, his only went so far.

"Thanks for telling me, Zevran." Alistair's face looked much older all of sudden. He barely noticed Zevran leaving. He slugged down the brandy quickly.

...

A quiet knocking awoke Anders and he went to the door. A maid awaited with a line of servants behind her carrying buckets of hot water. She explained that the King wanted to see Neria at her earliest convenience, meaning, Anders thought, _now-ish_ rather than truly at her convenience. The last servant in the parade of servants carried a tray laden with food and hot tea. He set it up on a table in their room.

It was a testament to Neria's exhaustion that she didn't awaken while a stream of people emptied their steaming buckets into the tub. The maid stayed when the others left.

"Ser, I'm to assist the Commander in getting ready," she told him.

"Eh, that's not necessary. She's a big girl, been getting ready on her own for awhile now," Anders replied. He shooed the servant out of the door and debated not waking his wife.

Her face looked so relaxed while she slept. The furrow that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her brow was smoothed out. Her silky chestnut hair fell in wisps across her forehead, almost falling into her closed eyes. He brushed her hair back and marveled at the thick black fringe of her eye lashes. There was something so childlike about her when she slept. Maybe it was just her diminutive size and slender build, or perhaps the fullness of the rose-colored bud of her lips. The notion that she had ended a civil war, defeated an archdemon, dealt with conspiracies, assassination attempts, treachery, peasant uprisings, and everything... none of that showed on her face. She was just a girl, with girlish dreams - whatever girls dream of, Anders had no idea.

"Neria," he whispered into her perfectly shaped ear, "wake up, buttercup." He shook her gently. She rolled her head and looked up into his face. Her eyes were soft and muzzy from the deep sleep. It took a moment for her to reorient herself. Then the furrow came back and the girl fled to wherever she hid during her waking hours. She yawned and stretched.

"Time to get up?" she asked.

"The great, shiny one wishes to see you. He's sent up a bath and food, apparently to speed you along. There was also a maid but I sent her away."

"Well, I suppose it has to happen sooner or later," she sighed. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes sleepily.

They bathed together. The tub was nice, but had nothing on Orzammar's facilities. Anders washed her hair, sculpting it into shapes before he let her rinse the soap out. They both smelled like lavender when they emerged. They dressed in the new outfits Harrowmont had made for them and then they demolished everything on the tray.

Neria was starting to feel awake finally and she was dreading her talk with Alistair.

"Well, let's get this over with," she said. She linked arms with Anders and they walked to Alistair's study. The guard at the door stopped them.

"My lady," he told her, "the King wants to talk to you alone."

Neria saw the signs of stubborn refusal building on Anders face. His eyebrows always drew down and his mouth compressed in exactly the manner it was doing now.

"It's okay," Neria reassured him. "We should probably talk alone. I don't want to gang up on him."

"Bad things happen when I'm not with you, buttercup," Anders said. "I promise I won't say a word."

Neria smiled broadly. "Ha! As if you could manage that." She poked him in the ribs. "Why don't you wait for me right outside? I will maintain the link with you. If anything bad happens, I'll break it. Okay?"

Anders nodded reluctantly. "All right, but if you break the link I can't promise there won't be a trail of burnt bodies until I find you."

She laughed and nodded. "Medium rare, if you can."

Anders grimaced. "Burnt beyond recognition, more likely." He bent down and kissed her forehead and whispered to her. "Give him hell."

Neria squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. She nodded to the guard and he opened the door for her, closing it after she entered.

Alistair was pacing in front of the large fireplace. He stopped and looked at Neria as she walked in. Neria realized how much older he looked. It had not been that long since the blight ended and they went their separate ways but even from a few months ago, he seemed older.

"Your Maj..."

"Stop," he interrupted her. Alistair crossed the room gently grasped her shoulder to prevent her from bowing. "Before you say anything, can I please?"

She nodded. She didn't know what she was going to say, it would be easier if he went first anyway.

"I am sorry," he said. His eyes reflected sadness, Neria thought. "I should never have put holding onto the throne ahead of protecting the people I care about. You were driven to do things to protect the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, to ensure the order remains independent and free of Chantry control. The Chantry controls more than just templars and mages, Neria, they control the crown too. But I never should have let them do it so easily."

He peered intently into her eyes. "Will you accept my apology and my promise I won't do it again?"

Neria swallowed hard. This was unexpected. She had expected to tell him how many ways he had failed her over the months since she'd last seen him. She wanted to pour her anger, frustration and fear into him. His apology made her feel like her backbone had been removed, the thing propping up her anger was suddenly gone. Her eyes flooded with tears.

"I accept your apology," she said quietly.

A small amount of relief came to Alistair's face. He pulled her into a hug. "I am so sorry," he repeated. He held her gently against his chest for a moment then let her go. "Come, let's talk. I have news you'll want to hear." He pulled her over to the sofa and they sat together. Alistair picked up her tiny hand in his massive hand.

"Mother Sweeney is dead," he said.

Neria gasped softly. "She's... dead?" She was possessed with a fiendish desire to jump up and cheer but she repressed it. "How?"

"A templar killed her. Right in front of me, even. He shouted something about her working with the blood mages, and he ran her through! Right in my audience hall. He was quite mad from lyrium withdrawals."

Neria couldn't help but notice the corner of his mouth twitched up, just briefly. Apparently she wasn't alone in thinking this wasn't exactly tragic news.

"Forgive me for saying this, Alistair, but I won't be shedding any tears."

"Your lack of grief is shared," he said dryly. "It does rather simplify things."

"Is this why the Chantry agreed to sign the treaty?" she asked.

"The Grand Cleric agreed to it reluctantly when the decree came from the Divine in Orlais."

Neria looked at Alistair again with her mouth gaping. "Really? Then my letter to the Orlais Wardens must have done some good." Neria was feeling so out of touch, having been either traveling too, or staying in, Orzammar for so many weeks.

"Yes, I think it helped, but I suspect the Ferelden Chantry might have seceded except for the lyrium crisis."

Neria was about to say something but Alistair put up a hand to stop her. "You know about the embargo, of course, but what you _don't know_ is that the lyrium storehouse caught fire and exploded." He pounced on the words _'don't know'_ hoping to convey his message that he didn't want to know whether or not she had anything to do with it. She looked at him, her eyes wide trying to judge why he was hedging his words. Perhaps he feared spies, or maybe he feared his own over-developed sense of justice would kick in and be required to prosecute her for the crime.

"Exploded?" she said, trying to appear genuinely surprised. She knew her acting skills were marginal at best. "I hope no one was injured," she added.

"Surprisingly, no one was injured from the blast, but there were some casualties as people panicked and ran for the gates."

Neria nodded, remembering her own near disaster trying to get out of town.

"I appointed a new Grand Cleric, until the Divine in Orlais finds a permanent one. I think you'll approve. Do you remember Mother Hannah in Recliffe?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. She seems nice, although I don't really know her."

"Well, more importantly she's a fan of yours and the Grey Wardens as well. Eamon says her views are moderate, perhaps even progressive."

Finally a genuine smile broke on Neria's face. "That is good news!"

"I've spoken with her myself and she abhores what Mother Sweeney did. She's even agree to drop the lyrium conditioning for new templars." Alistair smiled broadly. "I think it's painfully obvious to them now how dependent they are on Orzammar for lyrium, they won't be wanting to repeat that mistake."

"Only interim, though," Neria frowned. "We need someone like that to be permanent."

"I've written to the Divine to ask that she be considered for the permanent positions," Alistair said.

"Good! I hope they listen." Neria's smile deepened. "Thank you, for everything you did."

He shook his head. "It wasn't enough. I was afraid the Chantry would pull their support from me if I pressed too hard. Eamon kept warning me and I listened to him, too much. He reminded me how Meghren fell when the Chantry removed their support of him." He sighed. "I realize now that being King is useless if I'm not going to stand for what I believe in just to remain in power."

Neria smiled fondly at him. _He's learning, _she thought. "I realize I don't have to walk quite the political tightrope you do, but sometimes I think about Duncan. What little I know of him is he didn't rock the boat when possible, but he never failed to flex his muscle when he felt it was necessary. Like when he recruited you. Or even when he recruited me."

"True. I thought the Grand Cleric was going to have him arrested for recruiting me."

"When he recruited me the Knight-Commander was furious," Neria said.

"Do you want to hear about the treaty?" Alistair asked, some of his usual jocularity was returning.

"Of course!" Neria said.

"The new Grand Cleric has agreed to sign it and we plan to have a signing ceremony tomorrow morning. I wanted you to look it over before then so that there are no surprised."

Neria nodded. "I will, but... there is one thing I know that isn't in the current treaty that I would like to have included." The notion had occurred to her last night. "I want the phylacteries of all mage Wardens to be handed to the Grey Wardens."

Alistair's eyebrows rose. "Well... wow. Um, that's quite a request. I guess it can't hurt to try for it. I'll have to run it past Mother Hannah."

"If she balks, let her know that any errant mages will be dealt with by the Grey Wardens. If necessary, we can always seek help from the Chantry, should it come to that."  
Neria was telling a little white lie. Well... perhaps a little gray lie. She had no intention of preserving the phylacteries.

She paused a moment. She hated doing this but this was important. "This is a deal-breaker, Alistair. That provision needs to be in there or we're going to turn around the wagon of lyrium and return to Orzammar."

Alistair rubbed his head nervously. "I understand. I'll make sure it gets included."

"Alistair, can I take the treaty with me? I'd like to review it with Anders."

Alistair nodded. "Yes, by all means. Just get back to me and let me know if it's acceptable." He gave her hand another squeeze. "I understand married to Anders?"

Her eyes crinkled happily. "I did! We were handfasted in a very informal ceremony on our way to Orzammar by a fallen Chantry sister... I'll have to tell you that story someday! But when we got to Orzammar King Harrowmont threw us a huge wedding."

"Do you want to be married in the Chantry?" he asked, "With Mother Hannah in charge, it might be possible now."

Neria laughed. "No, I don't think I would feel any more married than I presently do."

"The people would probably like seeing the Hero of Ferelden have a grand wedding. It would be like a royal wedding to them."

"Hm, well if you're eager to give them a royal wedding perhaps it is time you got hitched. You're not getting any younger, Alistair," she poked him in the ribs. "Frankly, it'll take a personal visit from Andraste before I set foot in another Chantry."

Neria rose and Alistair followed.

"Let me get you the treaty," he said. "Do you want to write up the new addendum or should I have one of my people do it?"

"I'll do it," she said. She took the treaty when he handed it to her. It wasn't a long document, fortunately.

"Neria, I... well, I hope we can be friends again." Alistair grasped her in one more hug. When she looked up at him, he wore that pained expression again.

"We can be, Alistair. Let's just put all this behind us."

"Agreed," he said. He kissed her on the top of her head. "Get back to me as soon as you can about the treaty and with your addendum."

"I will, I promise. Just give me a couple hours."

She left, pulling the door shut behind her. Anders jumped to his feet. "Are you okay?" he asked, anxiously.

"Yes, of course." Neria smiled at him.

"I didn't hear shouting, I was worried."

"I didn't need to shout."

"You most certainly did! There definitely needed to be shouting. You should have thrown something too, preferably a large lightning bolt," he insisted stubbornly.

"Good thing you waited outside then." She grabbed his hand and yanked him down the hall. "Let's get back to our room."

Anders waggled his eyebrows. "I always like it when you drag me back to our room in a hurry."

Neria laughed. "Well, you're in for surprise this time, my darling." She winked lasciviously at him.

...

Anders fingers were smudged with ink as they worked on wording their addendum to the treaty. "Surprise, indeed," he grumbled. "It is a surprise, but not exactly what I had envisioned."

"They're feeling very conciliatory and cooperative right now. It would be a shame not to take full advantage of this mood," she said. "Once this treaty is signed, _I_ will feel conciliatory and cooperative," she said suggestively, bending over to kiss his neck.

"Oh, right! Now I've smudged it again. Leave me be, woman, if you want this written neatly."

"Hurry, I have to get it back to Alistair so he can get it approved by the new Grand Cleric."

Anders started over on a new parchment. "I only wish the old Grand Cleric were around to sign this, I think she would have puckered so hard her face might have caved in."

He worked quietly for a few minutes then put the quill down. "Here, read it over."

Neria read it over his shoulder. "Perfect! I'll just get this to Alistair, along with the rest of the treaty. Everything looks just fine. Tomorrow should be the end of this all." She waited for the ink to dry then snatched it up with the treaty. "I'll be back in a few minutes." She headed for the door.

"Whoa!" Anders reached out and grabbed a handful of her robe. "Not without me."

"It'll just be a moment."

"Yes, right. Everything always starts out like that, then you end up in a dungeon cell somewhere. When we're in Denerim, you don't go anywhere alone." Anders hugged her close. "Maybe I'm being overprotective, but this place hasn't been good to either of us."

Neria smiled. "You're right. Just ignore me if I get snappish about it. You can be my own personal templar."

"Oh, templar? Hm, you've been a very naughty apostate, Neria..."

"Hold onto that thought, Anders!" she said laughing. "Let's get this thing to Alistair first."


	30. Chapter 30

**Note: **I just got an idea for a new story... *evil cackle* Funny how an off-hand comment from someone can do that. It's going to be another political thriller. I think probably featuring F!Cousland and whoever is ruling Ferelden (haven't decided yet) and the long, devious arm of Orlais.

...

The treaty signing ceremony was not a large affair, given that most people were ignorant of the war between the Grey Wardens and the Chantry, and that was the way Alistair wanted it. The fewer people who knew of this nastiness, the better. All the Wardens were there, of course, along with Zevran and Dworkin. The new Grand Cleric was as well. The only templar in sight was the new Knight-Commander of Denerim.

Zevran smiled when he heard the introduction of the new Knight-Commander of Denerim. _Harrith! _Zevran thought gleefully. _The sly fox was probably the most corrupt templar in all of Ferelden_. _How terribly convenient. _He wondered how he had managed such an elevation in his rank. Perhaps he had it by default, being the only templar not in the thralls of lyrium withdrawal. He leaned over and whispered into Sigrun's ear about Harrith. She looked up at him with an delighted gleam in her eye. Over the last few months he had grown very fond of that mischievous look. The earring dangling from her ear, the one Neria hadn't accepted, marked her as his, at least in his mind.

Of course, Eamon was present. He looked as pleased with himself as if he had brokered the agreement himself. Zevran thought the man should be retired, like old politicians are retired in Antiva - with a well aimed arrow. Teagan was there as well. Teagan was a decent fellow, Zevran thought. More than decent, actually... delicious. But he was, as always, consuming Neria with his eyes. He'd heard from others that there had been _a thing_ between the pair at one  
point, before he had met her.

Neria looked nervous; he couldn't blame her, she had so much riding on this. She greeted the new Grand Cleric politely. Mother Hannah smiled broadly at her, there were words mumbled between them and Neria smiled graciously. Alistair was the first to sign. He picked up a quill and signed one copy. He set the quill down and picked up another and signed another copy with that one. He repeated the process several more times, using a new quill for each one. Zevran was fascinated, wondering why he switched quills. The Grand Cleric signed next, repeating the same quill changing. Then Neria signed, also switching quills. Later on, Zevran saw why. The quills were handed out to notables to commemorate the signing. The treaty copies went to each of the signers and another was sent to the royal archives.

The ceremony was done reasonably quickly. Neria met with a dwarven captain to ask that the lyrium wagon be brought to Denerim. There was to be a big dinner that evening with all the nobles. It would be announced that the Ferelden compact with the Grey Wardens had been renewed, but of course the war would never be mentioned.

Neria pulled Zevran aside. "We're leaving tomorrow morning, at first light. Could you spread the word?"

...

The next day the Wardens rose before dawn. Neria went back to the compound to collect things they had left behind in their hasty departure, the first time Neria had been captured. Neria was half-hoping she would find the enchanted butterfly pin that Anders had given her, but she must have lost it in the Chantry dungeon. She was near tears after turning her room upside down looking for it.

"What is it, buttercup?" Anders asked her.

"I was hoping the butterfly was here."

"Oh! The one I gave you?" he asked. "When did you last see it?"

"I wore it that night when Sigrun and I went to the Pearl. I think it never made it out of the dungeon." She frowned. "I loved that butterfly."

Anders was touched by her distress over losing his present. He would have to find a way to replace it. He hugged her tightly. "Forget the butterfly. We have something much better than that now. We have each other." It sounded incredibly sappy to him but it made her cheer up. _ Well, if that's what it takes._

Alistair had replaced their stolen horses and they mounted up. Alistair was there to see them off.

Neria invited Alistair to visit them and he promised he would. He helped her up onto her mount and he grasped her hand one last time and said 'goodbye'. The Wardens road off just as the sun was peeking above the horizon. If the weather permitted, and they could tolerate the pain of riding, they should be back to the Vigil late the next day. Neria thought she could tolerate a lot of pain, in order to get back.

The journey was blessedly uneventful. Frequent breaks for healing kept the Wardens in their saddles the entire day. Neria handed off the horses to a servant and charged into the Vigil with her entourage behind her. Everyone was there, looking to be in good fettle. The Wardens that traveled by the Deep Roads had arrived more than a week ago, their trip had been completely unmarked by darkspawn. Even the Keep had been much improved from the state they had left it in. Apparently Alistair and the nobles had kept their pledges of funds and assistance in rebuilding. A large impromptu feast was served that evening and the Wardens celebrated the end of the lyrium war. Although the travelers were tired from their trip, they had enough energy to celebrate. Neria handed out stamina tonics to keep them going. Sleep could come later, it was time for a party.

Neria was just beginning to get seriously tipsy and she was smiling suggestively at Anders. He was leaning into her, kissing her ear. Oghren was complaining that they should take _it_ upstairs and Neria laughed at him. A ribald comment was about to escape her mouth when there was a booming banging at the front door of the Vigil. Neria looked startled.

"What was that?" she asked.

Everyone drew their weapons and they went to the door and opened it. There was a man standing there, alone, unarmed. He was wearing tattered, dirty clothes. He carried a large stick on his back but was otherwise unarmed.

"Is Neria here?" he asked, a tremor his voice.

Neria pushed to the front of the assembled Wardens, so she could see the visitor. "Sodding ancestors!" she swore. "Jowan!" She ran lightly down the stairs and embraced him. She pulled him by the hand into the Vigil.

"Jowan?" Anders asked, realization dawning on him. "Aren't you the..."

"Yes! Yes, I am the blood mage. All right?" He looked frustrated with having to apologize for himself yet again.

Neria looked at Anders. "It's okay, Anders. He's a good guy. He was rescuing refugees the last time I saw him, barely staying ahead of the templars." She turned back to Jowan. "You look awful, Jowan! Why are you here? Do you need some food?" She realized she was babbling, so she shut-up so he could answer her.

"I've been running a long time now. I thought perhaps... well, I heard a little bit about your agreement with the Chantry. I was hoping I could... join you."

A smile twisted the corner of Neria's mouth. "Join us? Well... of course! There are risks, you know."

Anders looked at Neria in surprise. "What? I didn't just hear you say that. He's a blood mage, Neria!"

"We can discuss this later, Anders," she said, her expression promising that she wouldn't tolerate any outbursts right now. She gestured Jowan to follow her.

He joined them at their table, now mostly empty of food, but she had the cook bring him more. He ate quickly then nearly fell asleep right in front of them, so she had a servant show him to a guest room.

Later that night, she and Anders had a major row in their bedroom. He was against having a blood mage join them. She pointed out that not all blood magic was evil and regardless it would be downright useful.

"You know as well as I do no magic isn't inherently evil, it is the way it is used," she said. "My lightning bolt could be used to evil ends, but it's my character that keeps me from doing that. I can vouch for Jowan's character. He hasn't always made the right decisions but I can honestly say his heart is always in the right place."

The argument raged into the night and delved into the philosophy of magic. Eventually Anders conceded, if only from exhaustion.

**Epilogue**

Neria got an earful of grief from Nathaniel and even some strenuous objections from Dahlia. Anders was just waiting for Jowan to turn into an abomination. It didn't happen however. Jowan survived the Joining and he proved himself to be a worthy Warden. Even Anders eventually accepted him. Over time many apostates came to the Vigil, those tired of running or hiding from templars. The Ferelden Wardens accepted many of them. The ones they didn't accept, they helped them escape to Orzammar via the Deep Roads.

Neria and Anders tried to teach others how to create a link but they were never able to pass the knowledge along. They came to believe it was something unique to them.

Eventually there was a new Circle founded in Orzammar, one not under Chantry control, and with direct access to lyrium. The Divine in Orlais was so incensed over this turn of events that it was rumored that she was contemplating an _Exalted March_ against Orzammar. Neria thought she must have lost her mind. She couldn't imagine that they would be willing to risk shutting off lyrium to templars yet again. She suspected that the Ferelden Chantry would not want to take part in this holy war, if it came to pass. Fortunately, the Divine succumbed to a terrible lung infection before she could declare the Exalted March.

The Ferelden Grey Wardens mage forces eventually grew so large that they ended up sending many of their mages to Orlais and Antiva, who had problems recruiting talented mages due to their own issues with the Chantry.

"What is this?" Neria asked, examining the delicately decorated box Anders put in her hand.

"A... box?" Anders teased her.

"I know it's a box but I mean, why are you giving me this?" she asked.

"Don't you know what today is?"

"The day after yesterday? The day before tomorrow? Two days before..." she quipped, adopting Anders usual cheeky reply.

"Hrm. It's our anniversary," he frowned at her. "You forgot?"

"Oh. Um, I guess I did." She looked down and peeked up at him through her hair. "I'm sorry! I will make it up to you."

"Yes, I imagine you will," he said ominously. "Well, open the box!"

She untied the navy blue ribbon around the carved box and slowly lifted the lid. Inside there was _her_ butterfly. The one made from delicate silver and gold wires. She gasped at the sight of it and touched it gently. It's wings folded and unfolded and it glowed with a delicate blue light.

"Anders! Where did you find another one?"

He smiled at her. "I had it made. I asked around to find out where the original came from. Turns out Owain, at the Tower, makes these. He made another one for me."

Tears ran down Neria's face. It was hard to believe that a year ago all that had happened. She tried to fasten the pin to herself but her vision was too blurred. Anders took it from her and pinned it to her robe. The memories that the butterfly resurrected were bittersweet. It represented the worst time in her life and also the best, when her love for Anders finally flowered.

"I actually told a little lie, Anders. I do have something for you." She opened her armoire and pulled out a soft bundle wrapped in tissue paper. "I hope you like it." She handed him the package.

He held it up to his ear and shook it. It was obviously fabric, so his shaking only made the tissue paper crinkle. Neria laughed at him. He finally unwrapped it. Neria had a dark blue mage robe made, with a grey sash. She knew it would look wonderful with his complexion.

"Ah, buttercup, this is really nice. I'm going to wear it to dinner tonight." He hugged her and they kissed. The kiss turned passionate and they were late to dinner, again.

...

That spring Anders and Neria left the Vigil to Nathaniel for an extended vacation. They rented a cottage on the coast and they were going to try their hand at domestic bliss. Neria loaded their cart up with books about cooking and other domestic topics. Anders wasn't exactly sure what he would do. Perhaps he would try to learn to fish or hunt.

Two weeks they lasted.

They had both been sick from food poisoning, and were becoming dreadfully thin. Neria's cooking was, to be kind, inedible. After being patient for a few days Anders took over the task, but his attempts were just as bad. The cottage's roof leaked when it rained. It was full of tiny little spiders that lived in the corners and Neria was constantly walking through webs, which made her shriek in horror. The bed was lumpy and smelled moldy. They realized they had to wash their own clothes and had little idea how to do it. The end result was they avoided the task and ended smelling ranker each day.

One morning the pair of mages looked at each other and realized they were miserable. It was nothing like the blissful, romantic life Neria had imagined. They packed the cart, admitting defeat and returned to the Vigil and the joys of having someone else do the cooking, cleaning and laundry.

"Let us never speak of this again," Anders said.

Neria nodded vigorously.

_Fin_


End file.
